\ 


A    HANDBOOK    OF 
ORAL    READING 


BY 

LEE  EMERSON  BASSETT 

PROFESSOR    OF    ENGLISH 
LELAND    STANFORD    JUNIOR  UNIVERSITY 


DANA  COLLEGE  LIBRARY 

HOUGHTON  MIFFLIN  COMPANY 

BOSTON  •  NEW  YORK  •  CHICAGO  •  DALLAS  •  SAN  FRANCISCO 
Win  M\itti\iit  l^xt&s  Camfaribgc 


COPYRIGHT,    I917,    BY    LEE   KMERSON   BASSETT 

ALL  RIGHTS  RESERVED  INCLUDING  THE  RIGHT  TO  REPRODUCE 
THIS  BOOK  OR  PARTS  THEREOF  IN  ANY  FORM 


CAMBRIDGE  .  MASSACHUSETTS 
PRINTED  IN  THE  U.S.A. 


N 


bAISTA  LAr..'..uA  COLLEGE  LIBRARY 


PREFACE 

The  aim  of  this  Handbook  is  to  present,  in  as  concise 
form  as  clearness  permits,  the  principles  of  natural  expres 
sive  reading  aloud.  The  book  is  the  outgrowth  of  several 
years  of  classroom  instruction  and  practice  based  on  the 
theory  that  effective  oral  expression  is  the  result  of  clear 
thinking ;  that  the  principles  underlying  conversation,  the 
most  natural  and  unpremeditated  form  of  speech,  apply 
with  equal  force  to  the  voicing  of  the  thought  of  the  printed 
page ;  and  that  the  ability  to  read  and  speak  with  clearness 
and  force  comes,  not  from  a  knowledge  of  rules  of  speech, 
but  with  the  education  of  mind,  imagination,  and  emotions, 
and  the  devotion  of  one's  best  mental  and  spiritual  ener- 
gies to  the  task  of  communicating  thought  to  other  minds. 

The  text  differs  from  others  chiefly  in  method  of  treat- 
ment. Technical  vocal  exercises,  and  comment  on  enuncia- 
tion and  pronunciation,  instead  of  being  put  at  the  begin- 
ning of  the  book  are  put  at  the  end,  on  the  ground  that 
expression  is  concerned  primarily  with  ideas.  If  technical 
drill  is  given  a  prominent  place  in  oral  instruction,  espe^ 
cially  at  the  outset,  the  student  is  pretty  sure  to  assuma 
that  the  whole  problem  of  expression  is  a  matter  of  mere 
mechanical  expertness  in  the  use  of  voice,  tongnie,  and  lipr, 
But  natural  and  spontaneous  expression  is  not  secured  ib 
this  way,  as  the  artificialities  of  elocution  of  the  past  have 
demonstrated.  The  accurate  utterance  of  words  is  largely 
a  matter  of  imitation  and  mechanical  skill,  but,  like  cor- 
rectness in  spelling,  the  accomplishment  is  incidental  to 
the  expression  of  thought. 

This  book  will  not  be  found  dogmatic  in  the  matter  of 


Jv  PREFACE 

teohnle  of  voeal  expression.  I  have  endeavored  throughout 
to  dc'iuonstnite  that  effective  speech  is  not  gained  hy  im- 
posing rules  upon  utterance,  but  by  allowing  the  mind  to 
express  itself  freely  and  normally  thi'ough  tone.  In  the 
majority  of  cases  faulty  utterance  may  be  traced  to  vague, 
confused  thinking,  or  to  a  lack  of  interest  in  what  is 
spoken.  When  thought  is  clear  the  voice  tends  to  go 
right. 

Furthermore,  I  have  departed  from  the  custom,  usually 
followed  in  texts  on  this  subject,  of  laying  first  emphasis 
on  the  emotional  values  of  selections  studied.  Clear  under- 
standing is  the  basis  of  sane,  convincing  speech.  Appreci- 
ation and  feeling  follow  the  thought.  The  attempt  to  force 
or  simulate  emotion  about  something  not  clearly  under- 
stood is  demoralizing  to  the  student,  and  inevitably  results 
in  vain  and  artificial  expression. 

Part  I  is  devoted  to  a  discussion  of  the  problem  of 
thought-getting,  and  of  the  modulations  of  the  voice  which 
give  evidence  of  well-ordered  thinking  and  serve  to  make 
the  meaning  clear  to  others.  Part  II  is  devoted  to  the 
problem  of  the  imaginative  and  emotional  response  to 
thought,  and  to  those  modulations  of  tone  which  reveal 
feeling  and  render  speech  impressive.  Part  III  deals  with 
the  technical  problems  of  tone  production  and  of  forming 
tone  into  words. 

The  task  of  the  teacher  and  the  problems  of  the  class- 
room have  been  constantly  held  in  mind  in  the  preparation 
of  this  Handhook.  I  have  endeavored  to  offer  such  sug- 
gestion and  help  as  may  serve  to  lighten  the  teacher's 
labor  without  imposing  hard  and  fast  methods  of  instruc- 
tion or  procedure  or  encroaching  upon  the  freedom  of  the 
individual  teacher  in  the  use  of  this  text.  At  the  end  of 
the  book  a  section  has  been  devoted  to  suggestions  to 
teachers  and  to  a  program  of  recitations  and  assignments 


PREFACE  V 

covering:  the  entire  contents  of  the  volume  in  a  series  of 
carefully  planned  lessons.  Frequent  references  are  also 
made  to  the  particular  principles  involved  in  the  various 
assignments.  It  is  not  assumed  that  this  program  will  be 
suited  to  all  classes  and  situations,  but  it  is  hoped  that  it 
will  afford  valuable  assistance  to  the  teachers  in  adapting 
the  material  of  this  book  to  the  daily  needs  of  the  class. 

Adequate  illustrative  material  is  offered  with  each  chap- 
ter for  aU  ordinary  needs  of  a  course  in  reading  aloud,  so 
that  assignments  outside  the  book  need  be  made  only  at 
the  option  of  the  teacher.  For  the  most  part,  only  selec- 
tions of  proved  literary  merit  have  been  chosen.  In  the 
experimental  vise  of  a  wide  range  of  literature  in  class  work 
I  have  learned  to  rely  more  and  more  upon  standard  authors 
whose  work,  by  reason  of  its  truth,  strength,  and  beauty, 
has  stood  the  test  of  time.  A  course  in  reading  aloud 
affords  the  best  opportunity,  and  oftentimes  the  only  op- 
portunity the  student  has,  for  becoming  acquainted  with 
good  literature  and  for  cultivating  a  taste  for  the  best  that 
has  been  written.  While  my  aim  has  consistently  been  to 
provide  material  illustrative  of  the  various  aspects  of  the 
problem  of  expression,  as  discussed  in  the  several  chapters, 
I  have  made  the  selection  in  the  hope  that  many  passages 
of  beauty  and  charm  may  be  retained  by  the  student  long 
after  the  particular  phases  of  the  study  which  they  illus- 
trate have  been  forgotten. 

Acknowledgments  are  due  to  those  authors  and  pub- 
lishers who  have  generously  granted  permission  for  the  use 
of  copyrighted  material.  My  obligation  is  noted  in  con- 
nection with  the  selections  used.  I  am  also  indebted  to 
Houghton  Mifflin  Company  for  the  privilege  of  extensive 
quotation  from  their  publications  of  the  works  of  Long- 
fellow, Lowell,  Whittier,  Emerson,  Holmes,  Harte,  Sill, 
George  Arnold,  Warner  (/«  the  Wilderness),  Crothers, 


vi  PREFACE 

Muir  ( Our  N'at'ional  Parks'),  and  Peabody  (^Mornings  in 
the  College  Chapel).  I  wish  to  express  my  sense  of  ap- 
pi*eeiatiou  and  indebtedness  to  Dr.  S.  S.  Curry,  but  for 
whose  sound,  keen,  and  stimulative  instruction  in  my  ten- 
fcitive  years  this  book  might  not  have  been  written ;  to  Dr. 
Ellwood  P.  Cubberley  for  careful  reading  of  the  manu- 
script and  assistance  in  preparing  it  for  publication;  to  Dr. 
William  Herbert  Carruth  for  criticism  of  the  text  and  help 
in  reading  the  proof;  and  to  Miss  Elizabeth  Lee  Bucking- 
ham for  many  practical  suggestions  and  for  that  encourage- 
ment which  springs  from  unfailing  faith  in  the  value  of 
the  work. 

Lee  Emerson  Bassett 

Stanford  University,  California 
September  1,  1916 


CONTENTS 

PART  I.     CLEARNESS  OF  MEANING 

Introduction 1 

I.  The  Relation  of  Thought  and  Speech    ....  15 

II.  Grouping 30 

III.  Pitch  Variation 51 

rV.  Emphasis 83 

PART  II.     IMPRESSIVENESS 

V.  Impressiveness  in  Speech 105 

VI.  Vocal  Energy 124 

Vn.  Rhtthm 161 

Vin.  Vocal  Quality 203 

IX.  The  Music  of  Speech 236 

PART  III.     EASE  AND  CORRECTNESS 

X.  Technical  Principles 281 

XI.  Training  the  Voice 289 

Xn.  Enunciation  and  Pronunciation 305 

TO   TEACHERS 

I.  General  Suggestions        315 

n.  Suggestions  regarding  Chapters 321 

in.  Program  of  Recitations  and  Assignments     .    .    .  330 
Index 343 


A  HANDBOOK  OF  ORAL  READING 

INTRODUCTION 

In  setting  forth  a  book  such  as  this  it  would  hardly  be 
deemed  necessary  to  insist  at  the  outset  on  reading  aloud 
as  an  essential  factor  in  education.  The  steadily  increasing 
number  of  well-attended  courses  in  oral  composition  and 
public  speaking  offered  in  secondary  schools  and  colleges, 
and  the  recent  lively  interest  in  oral  composition  mani- 
fested by  teachers  of  English  throughout  the  country,  give 
evidence  of  the  recognition  of  the  cultural  value  and  prac- 
tical usefulness  of  oral  training.  Special  emphasis  has  been 
placed  on  oral  composition,  public  speaking,  and  similar 
courses,  in  which  the  student  is  given  opportunity  for  prac- 
tice in  expressing  his  own  ideas  in  his  own  words.  Indeed, 
so  much  attention  has  been  given  to  this  particular  phase 
of  oral  expression  that,  at  the  present  time,  reading  aloud 
holds  a  place  of  relatively  minor  importance. 

The  author  does  not  wish  to  be  understood  as  question- 
ing the  value  of  training  in  oral  composition,  public  speak- 
ing, and  the  like  —  he  does  not ;  but  to  him  there  seems  to 
be  grave  danger  that  these  courses  which,  from  their  verj 
nature,  appear  to  afford  most  direct  and  immediate  practi- 
cal results,  shall  be  permitted  to  claim  our  entire  attention 
to  the  exclusion  of  a  study,  the  practical  benefits  of  which 
are  perhaps  less  apparent  but  none  the  less  real.  Every 
student  should  have  instruction  and  practice  in  standing 
before  others  and  speaking  what  he  knows  and  thinks 
about  a  subject.  It  is  an  eminently  sensible,  useful,  and 
stimulating  procedure.  But  with  all  its  advantages,  it  can- 


S  OR.VL  RE.\DING 

not  be  considered  the  "  be-all  and  tlio  end-all  "  of  oral  ex- 
pression. As  u  special  kind  of  mental  and  vocal  training  it 
merits  a  large  place,  no  doubt,  but  that  portion  of  the  stu- 
dent's time  which  may  be  claimed  for  the  study  of  oral 
expression  cannot  be  devoted  exclusively  to  this  phase  of 
the  subject  without  serious  loss. 
I  Oral  composition,  —  or  formal  conversation,  as  it  may 
/  be  called,  —  public  speaking,  and  similar  courses,  as  taught 
in  the  classroom,  offer  but  a  limited  field  of  oral  expression. 
\Classroom  conversations,  narratives,  discussions,  and  de- 
oates  —  whatever  form  the  speaking  exercise  may  take  — 
are  confined  principally  to  a  statement  of  conditions,  events, 
facts,  and  opinions  addressed  chiefly  to  the  understanding, 
>aiid_seldom  to  the  imagination  or  emotions^..  Even  the  spon- 
taneity and  spirit  of  everyday  conversation,  with  its  play 
of  thought,  fancy,  and  feeling,  are  seldom  in  evidence  in  a 
marked  degree.  True,  spirit  and  freedom  are  urged  and 
encouraged  by  the  zealous  teacher,  but  the  average  student 
finds  it  hard  to  forget  the  restraint  of  the  subject  and  the 
occasion,  and  the  conditions  are  not  conducive  to  the  exer- 
cise of  the  freedom  of  informal  conversation.  If  he  suc- 
ceeds in  saying  what  he  has  to  say  so  that  his  classmates 
shall  understand  and  follow  him  with  a  reasonable  degree 
of  ease  and  interest,  he  has  accomplished  about  all  that  is 
expected  of  him.  The  effort  has  helped  to  clarify  his 
thought  and  he  has  gained  somewdiat  in  skill  in  communis 
eating  his  ideas  to  others.  But  the  exercise  has  brought 
no  great  degree  of  training  in  vocal  expression.  No  very 
serious  demands  are  made  on  the  voice  in  merely  given  out 
information,  or  uttering  facts,  narrating  incidents,  or  stat- 
ing beliefs,  unless,  as  sometimes  happens  in  public  address, 
the  speaker  becomes  aroused  and  throws  all  his  powers  of 
mind,  imagination,  and  emotion  into  hisjLitterances.  Then 
the  resources  of  voice  are  brought  to  the  test.  But  the 


INTRODUCTION  S 

classroom  offers  little  incentive  to  such  full  and  spirited 
utterance,  and  efforts  at  intense  expression  are  pretty  apt 
to  savor  of  pretense  and  declamation.  The  style  of  speech 
appropriate  to  classroom  practice  is  of  a  simpler,  quieter 
sort.  Yet  the  lack  of  stimulus,  the  routine  nature  of  the 
work,  the  often  perfunctory  character  of  the  preparation, 
tend  to  a  cold,  self-critical,  and  restrained  style,  with  a 
consequent  restriction  of  vocal  action.  And  instead  of 
acquiring  a  flexible,  free,  and  varied  utterance,  the  student 
is  in  danger  of  dropping  into  a  hard,  mechanical,  and  dull 
manner  of  speech. 

Moreover,     in     oral-composition    and    public-speaking 
courses,  the  vocal  aspects  of  the  problem  can  ordinarily  re- 
ceive but  a  limited  consideration  by  reason  of  the  complex 
Oiature  of  the  work.  The  attention  of  teacher  and  pupilN 
/  alike  is  divided  between  subject-matter  of  the  speech,  the  ' 
I    problems  of  grammar  and  rhetoric,  and  oral  delivery.  But 
r  ido  servant  can  serve  two  masters  at  the  same  time  and 
^  serve  both  well.   Certain  it  is  that  no  student  can  attempt 
to  accomplish  three  things  at  once  and  attain  a  very  high 
degree  of  efficiency  in  aU  or  any  one.  Nor  can  the  teacher 
give  adequate  criticism  and  instruction  in  all  points  simul- 
taneously. It  naturally  follows  in  such  courses  that  atten- 
tion is  centered  more  on  the  problems  of  composition  than 
on  oral  expression  or  vice  versa,  or  that  time  is  divided 
equally  between  the  two,  with  a  consequent  loss  to  each. 
Even  under  these  difficulties,  the  work  has  distinct  advan- 
tages and  a  practical  value  which  no  one  will  question.  The 
contention    here    advanced    is  that,   under    these    circum- 
stances, there  is  not  reasonable  ground  for  assuming  that 
such  courses  afford  sufficient  training  in  oral  expression  to 
justify  giving   them    precedence    over  courses  in  reading 
aloud. 

Nor  does  abundant  practice  in  expressing  one's   own 


4  OR/\L  RE.VDING 

thoughts  in  speech  render  iinnecessary  tlie  training  to  be 
derived  from  expressive  reading  aloud  of  what  others  have 
said  and  have  been  at  pains  to  say  well,  ^r  reading  affords 
distinctively  valuable  discipline  in  at  least  three  respects  : 
'it  brings  the  student  into  direct  and  vital  contact  with  the 
thought  and  experiences  which  stimulate  the  mind,  quicken 
the  imagination  and  the  emotional  nature,  and  widen  the 
range  of  his  loiowledge  and  interest  pt  trains  him  to  accu- 
racy of  observation  and  to  certainty  of  understanding  which 
precludes  superficial  attention  and  "  snap  judgment "  ;  and 
it  provides  the  best  kind  of  training  of  the  expressive  pow- 
ers of  the  voice. 

The  greater  part  of  the  literature  read  in  schools  belongs 
to  that  class  of  writing  which  De  Quincey  calls  the  litera- 
ture of  powder,  as  distinguished  from  the  literature  of  mere 
knowledge.  The  literature  of  knowledge  treats  of  facts  as 
such ;  the  literature  of  power  holds  and  moves  and  inspires 
men  by  virtue  of  its  truth,  its  beauty,  its  imagination,  and 
its  feeling.  It  tells  us  how  men  think  and  feel  and  how  they 
relate  themselves  to  other  men  and  to  the  world  in  which 
they  live.  Obviously  one  who  reads  with  full  understanding 
must  exercise  the  imagination  and  the  sympathies,  and  must 
hold  them  subject  to  the  influence  of  what  he  reads.  New 
experiences  are  thus  made  his  through  contact  with  the 
thought  and  experience  of  the  author  and,  as  when  Keats 
"  heard  Chapman  speak  out  loud  and  bold,"  a  larger  world 
extending  beyond  the  little  circle  of  his  everyday  life,  ii 
opened  to  him.  But  the  range  and  power  of  such  literature- 
are  seldom  realized  by  the  student  until  he  hears  it  read 
aloud,  or  he  himself  attempts  to  express  its  thought  and 
spirit.  The  printed  word  is  given  reality  and  life  when  it 
is  uttered  by  the  living  voice. 

Moreover,  reading  aloud  trains  the  student  to  accurate 
observation  and  close  scrutiny  of  what  he  reads.  Ask  the 


INTRODUCTION  5 

student  who  Is  in  the  habit  of  "  skimming  over  "  whatever 
is  put  before  him  to  state  the  thought  of  what  he  has  just 
read,  and  rarely  is  he  able  to  give  anything  better  than  a 
vague,  disconnected  statement  of  it ;  but  let  the  student  be 
subject  to  the  exacting  study  which  good  reading  aloud  re- 
quires, and  he  is  prepared  to  give  a  better  account  of  his 
reading.  The  pupil  who  has  an  idea  that  the  only  require- 
ment for  reading  aloud  is  to  look  at  the  book  and  "  read  it 
oft,"  soon  finds  that  he  is  in  error.  For  no  one  can  read 
aloud  well  who  has  not  a  sure  grasp  of  the  thought,  and  ^ 
few  students,  untrained  in  reading  aloud,  have  the  ability 
to  get  from  the  printed  page  all  that  it  has  for  them.  Es- 
pecially is  this  true  of  poetry  and  finer  forms  of  literature. 

Now,  the  adequate  rendering  of  the  thought  of  the  printed 
page  makes  demands  on  the  voice  such  as  oral  composition 
and  ordinary  classroom  speaking  rarely  make.  For,  in  read- 
ing literature,  not  ideas  alone  are  to  be  stated,  but  imagina- 
tion and  spirit  are  to  be  revealed  as  well.  Without  these, 
poetry  becomes  dry  as  dust,  and  prose  "  vain  bibble-babble." 
All  the  expressive  powers  of  the  voice  are  called  into  ac-^ 
tion  when  one  reads  a  poem  like  Lowell's  Vision  of  Sir  \ 
Launfal.,  or  a  narrative  like  Irving's  Rip  Van  Winkle  or 
Dickens's  Christmas  Carol.  Indeed,  the  vividness  and/ 
impressiveness  of  such  literature  depend  largely  upon  th^ 
true,  unaffected  voicing  of  it. 

Professor  Dowden  in  his  New  Studies  in  Literature  re- 
marks :  "  Few  persons  nowadays  seem  to  feel  how  powerful 
an  instrument  of  culture  may  be  found  in  modest,  intelligent 
and  sympathetic  reading  aloud.  A  mongrel  something  which, 
at  least  with  the  inferior  adepts,  is  neither  good  reading  nor 
veritable  acting,  biit  which  sets  agape  the  half-educated  with 
the  wonder  of  its  airs  and  attitudinizings,  its  pseudo-heroics 
and  pseudo-pathos,  has  usurped  the  place  of  the  true  art  of 
reading  aloud,  and  has  made  the  word  recitation  a  terror 


6  ORAL  READING 

to  quiet  folk  who  are  content  with  intelligence  and  refine, 
luent."  Though  happily  the  airs  and  attitudiniziugs  of  the 
inferior  adepts  are  seen  less  often  than  formerly,  and  they 
no  longer  meet  with  the  unqualified  approval  of  even  the 
half-educated,  it  is  doubtful  whether  we  realize  now,  any 
more  than  when  Dowden  wrote,  the  educational  and  the 
cultural  value  of  reading  jdoud.  Anyhow,  good  reading  is 
rarely  heard  in  the  school  or  the  home  or  elsewhere.  And 
though  our  students  are  possibly  better  prepared  to  stand 
before  others  and  make  a  talk  or  give  a  formal  address 
tlian  they  were  ten  or  twenty  years  ago,  few  of  them  can 
read  a  page  of  print  with  clearness,  ease,  or  naturalness. 

Again  to  quote  from  Professor  Dowden :  "  The  reading 
which  we  should  desire  to  cultivate  is  intelligent  reading, 
that  is,  it  should  express  the  meaning  of  each  passage 
clearly ;  sympathetic  reading,  that  is,  it  should  convey  the 
feeling  delicately ;  musical  reading,  that  is,  it  should  move 
in  accord  with  the  melody  and  harmony  of  what  is  read,  be 
it  verse  or  prose."  If  this  sort  of  reading  were  cultivated/ 
•wisely  in  our  homes  and  schools,  another  generation  would 
perhaps  find  good  reading  more  generally  practiced  than 
now,  and  an  understanding  and  love  of  good  literature  more 
prevalent  among  young  people  than  at  the  present  time.  It 
is  the  hope  of  the  author  that  this  book  may  be  instrumen- 
tal, even  in  a  slight  degree,  in  stimulating  interest  in  read- 
ing aloud  and  in  simplifying  some  of  the  problems  of 
teaching  it. 

The  study  of  reading  aloud  is  concei;ned  with  thre© 
problems,  namely :  thinking,  feeling,  and  style  of  speech./ 
Of  these,  thinking  is  of  prime  importance  and  demands 
first  consideration.  While  enjoyment  through  awakened 
imagination  and  feeling  is  the  ultimate  purpose  of  litera- 
ture, it  is  the  author's  ideas  and  the  information  he  gives 
us  which  call  these  faculties  into  action.   As  children  we 


INTRODUCTION  7 

did  not  rejoice  at  the  deliverance  of  Robinson  Crusoe  from 
his  island  until  we  were  told  that  the  ship  was  ready  for 
his  rescue  and  that  he  was  so  overcome  that  he  "  was  at 
first  ready  to  sink  down  with  surprise."  We  are  not  struck 
with  horror  at  Macbeth's  crime  until  we  are  told  that  "  he 
is  about  it."  So,  in  reading  aloud,  the  listener  can  derive 
little  pleasure  from  what  he  hears  unless  the  sense  of  it  is 
made  clear  to  him.  Interest  and  enjoyment  wait  on  under- 
standing. 

An  attempt  to  arouse  the  emotions  in  reciting  a  piece  of 
literature  before  one  understands  it  or  knows  what  the 
emotions  are  about,  like  an  effort  at  fine  writing  when  one 
has  nothing  to  say,  expresses  nothing  so  much  as  vanity 
and  poverty  of  thought.  One  suspects  that  a  good  deal  of 
the  elocutionary  affectation  of  the  past  was  due  to  this  sort 
of  perversion. 

But  no  reading  is  adequate  which  fails  to  express  the  j 
spirit  of  what  is  read.  Every  thought,  if  it  really  mean^ 
anything  to  us,  arouses  some  kind  of  emotional  reaction. 
We  relate  ourselves  to  it  in  some  way.  The  thought  of 
home  awakens  feelings  of  tenderness ;  of  a  game  of  football, 
interest  or  enthusiasm ;  of  a  hard  lesson,  dread  or  deter- 
mination. Abstract  ideas,  unrelated  to  our  experience,  con- 
cern us  little  :  4  X  4  =  16  is  a  matter  of  slight  moment  to 
us  unless  it  means  dollars,  or  years  of  life,  or  miles  yet  to 
be  walked.  We  become  "  absorbed  "  in  a  story  when,  as 
we  read  on,  we  adjust  ourselves  to  its  characters,  and  itf 
ideas  and  incidents  become  vivid  and  real  to  us.  And  the 
sympathetic  reader  will  not  utter  words  merely,  nor  ideas 
alone  as  a  series  of  cold  statements,  but  thought  with  the 
feeling  it  awakens. 

The  style  of  speech  of  each  individual  is  largely  a  matter  >^ 
of  mental  habits,  of  feeling,  temperament,  and  character.  I 
"  Style  is  the  man  himself."    True  it  is,  that  the  man   is    ' 


8  ORAL  RE.VDING 

known  by  the  manner  of  his  speech.  One  can  never  get  far 
away  from  one's  self  in  speech,  vvhetlier  the  speaking  be 
limited  to  one's  own  thoughts  or  to  the  thought  of  a  poem 
or  piece  of  prose.  Effort  to  express  what  one  does  not  feel, 
to  appear  to  be  what  one  is  not,  deceives  no  one  so  much 
as  the  speaker. 

But  in  one  respect,  at  least,  the  manner  of  speech  has  a 
mechanical  basis,  and  depends  upon  mechanical  processes, 
which  in  time,  by  dint  of  much  practice  and  use,  become 
automatic  and  habitual.  The  use  and  control  of  the  voice 
as  an  instrument  of  expression  is  largely  acquired  by  delib- 
erate effort.  It  is  something  each  individual  must  learn, 
from  the  easy  management  of  breath  to  the  formation  of  tone 
into  words.  A  bad  voice,  with  abnormal  methods  of  using 
it,  while  perhaps  not  fatal  to  good  speech,  seriously  impairs 
its  effectiveness  and  is  a  handicap  to  the  possessor.  Crudi- 
ties in  pronunciation  and  faulty  enunciation  of  consonants 
and  vowels  betray  ignorance  or  carelessness  on  the  part 
of  the  speaker.  Pleasantness,  ease,  grace,  and  accuracy  of 
speech  result  from  right  training,  right  example,  good 
habits,  and  care.  Fortunate  is  the  person  who,  from  the  first, 
has  heard  careful  and  cultured  speech  and  has  been  trained 
to  speak  the  language  correctly  and  gracefully. 

But  however  great  the  need  may  be  in  the  matter  of 
use  of  the  voice,  and  formation  of  tone  into  words,  these 
things  should  not  receive  first  consideration  in  expression 
work.  They  are  but  incidental  to  the  main  purpose,  and  may 
appropriately  receive  attention  as  the  demands  of  reading 
may  indicate.  In  oral  as  well  as  written  expression,  thought, 
not  style,  is  of  prime  consequence.  We  speak  to  get  some- 
thing said,  not  to  show  how  well  we  can  speak.  The  manner 
of  speech,  though  important,  is,  after  aU,  secondary  to  the 
matter  spoken. 

Nor  is  an  effective  manner  of  speech  to  be  acquired  from 


INTRODUCTION  9 

without  by  imitation  of  others  or  by  studious  observation 
of  rules.  The  laws  of  expressive  speech  take  their  rise  from 
the  nature  of  man.  Likewise,  the  causes  of  weak,  faulty, 
inexpressive  speech  are  to  be  traced  to  the  nature  and  men- 
tal habits  of  the  individual.  In  a  sense  each  person  carries 
his  own  laws  and  rules  of  speech  with  him.  Only  untrained 
faculties,  undisciplined  latent  powers,  faulty  habits  and  man- 
nerisms, unresponsive  and  uncontrolled  agents  of  expres- 
sion, render  expression  inadequate,  peculiar,  ineffective. 
If  the  mind  were  perfectly  trained  to  concentration  and 
clear  thinking,  the  imagination  and  emotions  active,  strong, 
and  normal,  and  the  voice  perfect  as  an  instrument  and 
obedient  to  every  shade  of  thought  and  feeling,  there  would 
be  little  need  for  the  study  of  expression.  But  until  this 
happy  condition  is  attained,  the  study  of  expressive  speech 
will  remain  one  of  the  most  effective  means  of  educating  all 
the  faculties  of  our  nature. 

It  is  to  purposeful  and  spirited  conversation,  conversa- 
tion in  its  widest  range  of  expression  as  exemplified  by  the 
speech  of  people  in  general,  that  we  must  look  for  the  prin- 
ciples that  underlie  expressive  reading  or  effective  speech  of 
any  kind.  It  is  the  most  common,  spontaneous,  unpremedi- 
tated form  of  communication.  In  conversation  the  speaker 
presumably  has  something  to  say,  without  having  given 
studious  care  to  the  way  it  is  to  be  spoken;  the  desire  to 
speak  leads  the  thought  out,  and  voice  and  body  obey  the 
impulse  as  best  they  may.  Though  they  are  often  hampered 
by  weaknesses,  wrong  habits,  mannerisms,  and  misuse,  the 
influence  of  thought  and  feeling  tends  to  direct  their  action 
in  the  right  way.  From  conversation  we  may  learn  the 
vocabulary  of  tone  by  which  spoken  language  is  given  its 
peculiar  significance  and  force. 

Now,  reading  aloud  is  nothing  more  nor  less  than  the 
application   to  written  language   of   the  natural  laws  of 


10  ORAL  READING 

vocal  expression,  as  revealed  in  conversation.  Good  reading 
is  not  to  be  acquired  by  following  rules.  It  would  be  as 
reasonable  to  dictate  to  a  writer  what  words  he  should  use 
in  setting  down  his  thoughts,  as  to  lay  down  absolute  rules 
of  tone  for  expressing  certain  kinds  of  thought  and  emotion. 
The  modulations  of  the  voice  are  combined  by  different  indi- 
viduals in  infinite  variety  for  the  expression  of  thought. 
But  without  knowledge  of  what  constitutes  good  reading 
and  the  elements  of  it,  and  without  the  skill  to  detect  faults 
and  mannerisms  and  weaknesses  and  attribute  them  to  their 
causes,  there  can  be  little  growth  in  the  power  to  speak  and 
read  aloud. 

Observation  and  analysis  have  shown  that  certain  modula- 
tions of  the  voice  —  such,  for  example,  as  inflection  and  ac- 
centuation —  are  directly  related  to  the  mind  and  reveal 
the  process  of  thinking,  while  others  —  like  tone-quality 
,  and  pitch — bear  an  intimate  relation  to  the  imagination  and 
emotions.  Every  change  of  the  voice  means  something  and 
conveys  some  impression  to  others  of  the  thought  and  feel- 
ing of  the  speaker.  Now,  the  absence  or  weak  use  of  any 
of  these  modulations  in  reading  aloud,  or  in  any  form  of 
speaking,  may  be  attributed  to  mental  or  emotional  causes. 
Faulty  and  inadequate  expression  is  apt  to  be  the  result  of 
lax  and  inadequate  thinking.  Correct  the  thought,  arouse 
interest,  awaken  the  mind  to  clear,  vigorous  action,  and  the 
speech  will  take  care  of  itself  pretty  well.  A  well-trained 
voice  is  a  valuable  asset,  but  it  is  incidental  to  a  well-trained 
mind  and  controlled  feelings.  All  the  examples  and  exer- 
cises found  in  the  following  pages  should  be  practiced  as 
exercises  in  thought-getting  and  thought-giving.  In  this 
■way  the  study  of  vocal  expression  becomes  a  study,  not  of 
external  mechanics  of  speech,  but  of  the  inner  conditions 
of  thought  and  life  upon  which  all  natural  speech  depends. 
The  study  of  the  principles  of  expressive  speech  will  pro* 


INTRODUCTION  11 

vide  criteria  for  judging  the  student's  understanding  and 
appreciation  of  what  he  reads,  and  his  interest  in  commu- 
nicating it  to  others ;  it  will  help  the  teacher  to  detect  and 
to  correct  lax,  careless,  and  faulty  habits  of  thinking ;  it 
will  make  clear  the  intimate  connection  between  thought, 
feeling,  and  voice ;  and  it  will  make  obvious  the  truth  that 
excellent  reading  is  the  result  of  excellent  thinking,  clear 
understanding,  and  the  vigorous  play  and  exercise  of  the 
imagination  and  the  emotions. 


PART  I 

CLEARNESS  OF  MEANING 


CHAPTER  I 

THE   RELATION    OF   THOUGHT   AND    SPEECH 

There  is  no  worse  arrangement  than  for  one  to  make  pretensions  to  the  spirit  of  a  thing 
while  the  sense  and  letter  of  it  are  not  clear  to  him.  (Goethje  :  Wilhelra  Meuier.) 

I.  WTiat  reading  aloud  involves 
Our  first  duty  in  reading  aloud  is  to  get  a  clear  under«. 
standing  of  the  meaning  of  what  we  read.  Whether  we  read 
"the  literature  that  instructs,  or  tells  a  story,  or  describes  a 
scene,  or  portrays  a  character,  we  must  give  the  meaning 
the  author  intended  to  convey  in  every  phrase  and  sentence. 
There  can  be  little  delight  in  "  the  vision  of  the  sky  "  when 
the  lines 

Slow  fades  the  vision  of  the  sky, 
The  golden  water  pales, 

are  read  with  such  emphasis  on  "  water  "  and  dropping  of 
the  voice  on  "  pales  "  as  to  suggest  to  the  listener  thai,  the 
foreground  of  the  picture  is  composed  of  water  pails.  Nor 
are  the  emotions  of  tenderness  apt  to  be  strongly  aroused 
when  we  are  told  that  "  Silas  Marner  decided  to  keep  the 
child  (who  was  frozen  one  evening)  outside  his  house  in 
the  snow."  Thoughtless  utterance  of  words  often  results  in 
such  misstatement  and  misrepresentation  of  meaning.  It 
never  reveals  the  finer  shades  of  thought  nor  contributes 
to  words  the  significant  variety  of  li\'ing  speech. 

Words  are  not  the  whole  of  speech,  nor  is  the  utterance 
of  them  all  there  is  to  reading.  The  meaning  conveyed 
through  them  is  determined  by  the  way  thoy  are  ypoken. 
For  example,  so  simple  an  expressfon  as  " ItTs  a'Teautif ul 
day  "  may  be  uttered  as  an  assertion  of  the  fact  that  the  day 


16  OR.VL  READING 

is  beautiful,  or  in  coneiuTence  with  the  opinion  of  another 
that  the  day  is  beautiful,  or  implying  that,  though  the  day 
is  beautiful,  the  night  was  wild,  or  it  may  be  so  spoken  as 
to  iini)ly  the  opposite  of  that  which  the  words  themselves 
assert,  that  the  day  is  anything  but  beautiful.  The  sense 
conveyed  depends  on  the  intention  of  the  speaker.  If  he 
have  no  definite  intention,  his  speech  will  reveal  that  too, 
whether  the  words  are  spoken  in  conversation  or  read  from 
the  pages  of  a  book.  The  reader's  task  is  to  find  out  what 
the  author  means,  then  to  speak  that  meaning  truthfully. 

2.  Sight  reading  and  preparation  Jbr  utterance 

It  is  obvious  that  to  read  well  one  must  prepare  well,  as 
well  and  thoroughly  as  time  permits.  Even  sight  reading 
involves  preparation,  though  the  time  for  it  is  necessarily 
brief.  The  preparation  must  be  made  during  pauses  and 
intervals  of  silence.  When  reading  at  sight,  the  reader 
nuist  gather  the  thoughts  as  he  goes  along,  hastily  and 
piecemeal,  it  is  true,  yet  words  should  not  be  spoken  until 
their  meaning  is  known.  If  the  reader  has  nothing  but 
words  to  speak,  he  has  nothing  to  say.  When  he  has  thought 
the  author's  thought  after  him,  and  not  till  then,  is  he  ready 
to  speak.  The  inexperienced  reader  is  apt  to  speak  words 
one  by  one  as  they  meet  the  eye.  Not  until  the  phrase  or 
sentence  is  spoken  does  he  know  what  the  meaning  is.  But 
he  should  remember  that  he  is  not  reading  for  himself 
alone,  but  to  communicate  thought  to  others,  and  this 
thought  cannot  be  clearly,  easily,  and  pleasantly  communi- 
cated until  he  himself  knows  what  he  is  saying.  The  mo- 
notonous and  "  sing-song  "  reading,  so  often  heard  in  the 
classroom  and  elsewhere,  is  due  largely  to  this  heavy-eyed 
glimpsing  and  perfunctory  voicing  of  words  without  definite 
knowledge  of  what  they  mean. 

In  sight  reading,  as  well  as  in  the  reading  of  that  with 


THE  RELATION  OF  THOUGHT  AND  SPEECH     17 

which  one  is  familiar,  the  eye  should  be  trained  to  precede 
the  voice.  During  pauses  between  phrases,  sentences,  and 
paragraphs  the  reader  has  an  opportunity  to  familiarize 
himself  with  what  follows.  This,  indeed,  is  what  pauses  are 
for.  They  are  the  intervals  in  which  the  mind  prepares  itself 
for  speech.  The  thoroughness  of  this  preparation  depends 
on  the  alertness  of  the  vision  and  the  mind.  The  beginner 
finds  it  difficult  to  grasp  even  a  short  group  of  words  in 
advance  of  utterance.  But  with  practice  the  eye  becomes 
apt  in  the  forward  look  which  apprehends  all  that  cool  rea- 
son may  comprehend.  Then  word  reading  will  give  place  to 
thought-getting  and  thought-giving.  Then  the  spoken  word 
will  mean  more  to  others  because  it  first  means  something 
to  the  reader. 

3.    Vocal  evidence  of  clear  thought 

The  voice,  when  under  the  guidance  of  mind  and  eye, 
will  tend  to  respond,  as  in  spirited  conversation,  to  the  de- 
mands of  the  thought.  Monotonous,  hesitant,  and  stumbling 
speech  indicates  that  the  reader  does  not  know  what  he  is 
saying  until  he  has  said  it,  and  even  then  he  may  not  be 
sure  of  its  meaning.  Thoughtful  reading  is  marked  by  the 
variety  of  utterance  characteristic  of  conversation,  and  va- 
riety is  the  direct  result  of  thinking  at  the  time  of  speech. 
Try  the  following  paragraph,  pausing  between  the  phrases, 
indicated  by  dashes,  long  enough  to  permit  the  eye  to  see 
all  the  words  in  the  next  phrase,  and  the  mind  to  get  ite 
sense  before  the  words  are  spoken.  Read  the  passage  again 
and  again  until  the  forward  look  becomes  easy.  When  the 
attention  is  thus  centered  in  the  thought  carried  by  the 
words,  and  not  limited  to  the  words  themselves,  the  reading 
will  show  it  by  the  natural  emphasis  and  variety  found  in 
animated  conversation. 


18  OR.\L  RExVDING 

There  was  little  doubt —  that  the  Lone  Star  claim  was  "  played 
out."  Not  dug  out,  —  worked  out,  —  washed  out,  —  hut ]jlai/ed  out. 
For  two  years — its  tive  sanguine  proprietors  had  gone  through 
the  various  stages  of  mining  enthusiasm  ;  — had  prospected  and 
planned,  —  dug  and  doubted.  They  had  borrowed  money  with 
hearty  but  unredeeraing  frankness,  —  established  a  credit  with  un- 
seliish  abnegation  of  all  responsibility,  —  and  had  borne  the  disap. 
pointment  of  their  creditors  with  a  cheerful  resignation  —  which 
only  the  consciousness  of  some  deep  Compensating  Future  could 
give.  Giving  little  else,  however,  —  a  singular  dissatisfaction  ob- 
tained with  the  traders,  —  and,  being  accompanied  with  a  reluc- 
tance to  make  further  advances,  —  at  last  touched  the  gentle  sto- 
icism of  the  proprietors  themselves.  The  youthful  enthusiasm  — 
which  had  at  first  lifted  the  most  ineffectual  trial,  —  the  most  use- 
less essay,  —  to  the  plane  of  actual  achievement,  —  died  out,  — 
leaving  them  only  the  dull,  prosaic  record  of  half-finished  ditcheri, 
—  purposeless  shafts,  —  untenable  pits,  —  abandoned  engines, — 
and  meaningless  disruptions  of  the  soil  upon  the  Lone  Star 
claim,  —  and  empty  flour  sacks  and  pork  barrels  in  the  Lone  Star 
cabin.  (Bret  Harte :  Left  Out  on  Lone  Star  Mountain.  From 
Frontier  Stories.) 

4-   Time  and  study  essential 

One  should  not  attempt  to  read  aloud  at  sight  anything 
but  simple  forms  of  literature.  Casual  sight  reading  of 
poetry  and  the  literature  pregnant  with  meaning  and  feel- 
ing, the  literature  that  appeals  strongly  to  the  imagination 
and  emotions,  can  give  at  best  but  a  vague  and  slight  idea 
of  its  beauty  and  power.  In  pi'eparing  such  literature  for 
reading  the  student  should  endeavor  to  know  the  author's 
thought  and  experience  and  purpose  as  thoroughly  as  did 
the  author  himself.  Only  such  study  and  analysis  as  will 
enable  the  reader  to  understand  every  shade  of  meaning, 
and  to  become  imbued  with  the  spirit  of  the  piece  as  a 
whole,  will  suffice  for  the  reading  of  our  best  literature. 

Suppose  you  are  to  read  tlie  following  lines  from  Byron's 
Childe  Harold's  Pilgrimage :  — 


THE  RELATION  OF  THOUGHT  AND  SPEECH    19 

Roll  on,  thou  deep  and  dark  blue  Ocean  —  roll ! 
Ten  thousand  fleets  sweep  over  thee  in  vain, 
Man  marks  the  earth  with  ruin  —  his  control 
Stops  with  the  shore  ;  —  upon  the  watery  plain 
The  wrecks  are  all  thy  deed,  nor  doth  remain 
A  shadow  of  man's  ravage,  save  his  own, 
When  for  a  moment,  like  a  drop  of  rain, 
He  sinks  into  thy  depths  with  bubbling  groan, 
Without  a  grave,  unknelled,  uncoffined,  and  unknown. 

The  first  thing  to  do  is  to  get  the  sense  of  the  whole  stanza. 
Unless  the  interrelation  of  the  various  lines  and  the  bear- 
ing of  each  upon  all  is  understood,  the  full  meaning  of  any 
single  line  will  not  be  made  clear  by  well-placed  and  pur- 
poseful emphasis.  If,  however,  you  know  why  the  poet  says, 
*'  Ten  thousand  fleets  sweep  over  thee  in  vain,"  you  will 
so  speak  the  verse  as  to  cause  the  listener  to  anticipate  the 
explanation  immediately  following. 

Man  marks  the  earth  with  ruin  —  his  control 
Stops  with  the  shore  ;  upon  the  watery  plain 
The  wrecks  are  all  thi/  deed. 

It  is  not  possible  to  illustrate  such  points  adequately  in 
writing.  The  voice  alone  can  do  that.  But  a  little  practice 
in  reading  the  stanza  aloud  will  make  it  evident  that  the 
lines  can  be  clearly  and  truthfully  read  only  when  the 
reader  sees  the  end  from  the  beginning.  Then  the  thought 
of  eacb  line  will  influence  the  utterance  of  every  other  line ; 
all  will  be  bound  together  in  unity  and  singleness  of  pur- 
pose, because  all  are  needed  to  convey  the  central  idea  of 
the  stanza,  that  on  the  ocean  the  works  of  man,  and  even 
man  himself,  are  subject  to  its  power. 

Take  another  example,  this  time  from  Shakespeare's 
Henry  the  Eighth.  First,  read  the  passage  with  emphasis 
as  indicated,  giving  the  speeches  as  direct,  frank  conversa- 
tion between  friends  who  do  not  question  the  honesty  or 
integrity  of  each  other. 


«0  ORAL  RE.U)ING 

Kvig  ffenrij.  You  liave  said  well. 

Wolsei/.     And  ever  may  your  highness  yoke  together^ 
As  I  will  lend  you  cause,  my  doing  well 
"With  my  well  saying  ! 

King  Henry.  'T  is  well  said  again! 

And  't  is  a  kind  of  good  deed  to  say  well : 
And  yet  words  are  no  deeds. 

Now  this  is  such  a  rendering  as  might  easily  result  from 
sight  reading.  A  clear  and  definite  meaning  is  given  to  the 
speeches,  but  a  little  scrutiny  of  them,  even  though  one  has 
no  further  knowledge  of  the  situation  than  that  gained  from 
the  lines,  will  make  it  apparent  that  it  is  not  the  meaning 
intended.  Had  the  king,  with  positive  emphasis  on  *'  well," 
expressed  absolute  confidence  in  Wolsey,  the  Cardinal  would 
have  been  impelled  to  show  gratitude  to  him  for  the  recog- 
nition of  his  virtue  of  "  well  saying."  But  it  is  evident  that 
the  words  of  Henry  were  spoken  in  no  complimentary  tone, 
for  Wolsey  is  put  on  the  defensive  and  feels  called  to  assert 
that  his  deeds,  too,  are  worthy.  But  in  his  next  speech  the 
king  reiterates  his  fair  words  in  tones  of  double  meaning. 
Instead  of  a  conversation  of  undisguised  confidence  and 
good-will,  analysis  shows  it  to  be  one  of  sarcasm  and  irony 
in  which  Henry  virtually  charges  Wolsey  with  dishonesty 
and  treachery. 

King  Henry.  You  have  said  well. 

Wolsey.    And  ever  may  your  highness  yoke  together^      ' 
As  I  will  lend  you  cause,  my  doing  well 
With  my  well  saying  ! 

King  Henry.  'T  is  well  said  again  ; 

And  't  is  a  hind  of  good  deed  to  say  well : 
And  yet  words  are  no  deeds. 

The  above  illustrations  will  perhaps  be  sufficient  to  show 
that  reading  aloud  is  a  task  requiring  as  thorough  prepara- 
tion and  careful  analysis  and  thought  as  any  other  study, 
and  that  good  reading  can  only  result  from  good  prepara- 


THE  RELATION  OF  THOUGHT  AND  SPEECH    21 

tion.  When  the  writer  means  to  convey  a  certain  thought 
it  is  the  reader's  business  to  convey  that  thought,  not  an- 
other, and  it  is  his  duty  to  make  sure  that  he  understands 
what  is  written  before  he  attempts  to  speak  it.  No  doubt  a 
good  deal  of  the  careless,  inaccurate,  and  monotonous  read- 
ing heard  in  the  classroom  is  due  to  the  notion,  prevalent 
among  students,  that  an  open  book  and  a  fair  ability  to 
pronounce  words  are  all  that  is  necessary  for  reading  any 
sort  of  literature. 

5.  Thinking  during  speech 
But  thorough  preparation  and  ready  familiarity  with 
what  one  reads  is  not  all.  It  is  possible  to  know  a  piece  o^ 
prose  or  poetry  so  well,  and  to  be  so  well  rehearsed  in  it, 
that  it  may  be  repeated  by  rote,  as  one  says  the  multiplica- 
tion table  while  the  mind  is  occupied  with  something  else. 
Every  one  has  heard  lines  repeated  in  a  jingling  "  sing- 
song "  way,  without  significant  pause  or  emphasis  or  other 
evidence  that  the  speaker  is  thinking  about  what  he  is  say- 
ing. The  words  follow  each  other  in  utterance  by  force  of 
habit,  while  the  mind  may  be  busy  with  any  number  of  dif- 
ferent things.  The  boy  who  speaks  "  The  curfew  tolls  the 
knell  of  parting  day,"  when  his  mind  is  occupied  with 
thoughts  of  his  lunch,  or  the  afternoon  ball  game,  or  his 
own  discomfort  as  he  stands  before  his  fellows,  is  not  likely 
to  put  life  or  reality  into  the  line.  Speech,  to  be  convincing 
and  genuine,  must  be  the  expression  of  active  and  present 
thinking.  The  skilled  axeman  uses  the  axe  with  the  ease  of 
long-practiced  habit,  yet  every  stroke  must  be  consciously 
directed  and  delivered  with  energy,  if  it  is  to  count  and 
the  chips  made  to  fly.  If  reading  is  to  have  the  convincing 
directness  and  force  of  living  speech,  the  keen  edge  of  the 
mind  must  be  applied  with  vigor  to  every  word  and  phrase 
and  sentence  when  they  are  spoken. 


tt  Oll-VL  READING 

6.  Conversation  the  basis  of  natural  style  in  reading 
The  influence  of  the  action  of  the  mind  on  the  voice  may 
be  observtHl  in  all  natural  :uul  unstudied  utterance.  In  such 
speech  every  chan!;e  in  the  tone  and  action  of  the  voice 
means  something.  Speak  the  sentence,  "  Clear  writers,  like 
clear  fountains,  do  not  seem  as  deep  as  they  are,"  and  then 
mention  as  many  expressive  actions  of  the  voice  as  you 
can.  If  you  have  spoken  the  sentence  naturally,  with  clear 
kno\vleily:e  of  its  ideas  before  you  uttered  the  words,  you 
will  recall  that  you  did  not  shout  the  words  loudly,  but 
spoke  them  with  a  moderate  degree  of  vocal  force ;  that  you 
dill  not  speak  them  Jis  rapidly  as  possible,  but  with  aver- 
age rate  of  time ;  that  there  were  some  pauses,  and  a  good 
de;d  of  rising  and  falling  of  the  voice  throughout  the  sen- 
tence. In  all  these  ways,  and  others  which  you  may  have 
noted,  was  your  voice  serving  your  mind  and  making  known 
the  thoughts  that  came  to  it  in  the  words  of  the  sentence. 
In  conversation  these  significant  variations  of  voice  are 
unpremeditated.  The  speaker  does  not  stop  to  consider 
them,  nor  is  the  listener  conscious  of  them.  The  thought 
and  the  speaker's  feeling  are  the  things  both  are  concerned 
about,  and  it  is  the  thought  that  determines  how  the  voice 
shall  act.  If  the  voice  is  disobedient,  so  much  the  worse  for 
the  thought,  the  speaker,  and  the  listener. 

Now,  if  the  thought  of  what  is  i-ead  aloud  were  as  defi 
nite  as  it  is  in  conversation,  and  the  desire  as  strong  t< 
communicate  it  to  othei*s,  there  would  be  no  great  diffei'- 
ence  between  the  style  of  speech  in  reading  and  conversa- 
tion. The  person  who  can  speak  his  o\\ti  thoughts  cleai'ly, 
natur;illy,  and  pleasantly,  would  be  able  to  x*ead  with  the 
same  clear,  varied,  and  significant  utterance.  All  depends 
on  whether  he  makes  the  sense  of  the  printed  page  his 
own,  and  whether  he  thinks  as  vigorously  when  reading  as 


THE  RELATION  OF  THOUGHT  AND  SPEECH    23 

when  speaking  his  own  ideas.  Rules  never  made  an  excel- 
lent reader  or  speaker,  but  clear  thinking  and  earnest  pur- 
pose have  made  many.  To  speak  with  "  the  unpretending 
simplicity  of  earnest  men  "  is  to  speak  what  one  thinks 
and  feels,  without  seK-consciousness  or  affectation  or  stud- 
ied effort  for  effect. 

An  exercise  in  clearness  of  expression 
The  following  adaptation  of  Irving's  story  is  a  good  illus- 
tration of  the  principles  discussed  in  the  foregoing  pages : 

THE  LEGEND   OF  SLEEPY  HOLLOW 

Washington  Irving 

In  the  bosom  of  one  of  those  spacious  coves  which  indent  the 
eastern  shore  of  the  Hudson,  at  that  broad  expansion  of  the  river 
denominated  by  the  ancient  Dutch  navigators  the  Tappan  Zee, 
and  where  they  always  prudently  shortened  sail  and  implored  the 
protection  of  St.  Nicholas  when  they  crossed,  there  lies  a  small 
market  town  or  rural  port,  which  by  some  is  called  Greensburgh, 
but  which  is  more  generally  and  properly  known  by  the  name  of 
Tarry  Town.  Not  far  from  this  village,  perhaps  about  two  miles, 
there  is  a  httle  valley  or  rather  lap  of  land  among  high  hills, 
which  is  one  of  the  quietest  places  in  the  whole  world.  A  small 
brook  glides  through  it,  with  just  murmur  enough  to  lull  one  to 
repose  ;  and  the  occasional  whistle  of  a  quail  or  tapping  of  a  wood- 
pecker is  almost  the  only  sound  that  ever  breaks  in  upon  the  uni- 
form tranquillity. 

From  the  listless  repose  of  the  place,  and  the  peculiar  character 
of  its  inhabitants,  who  are  descendants  from  the  original  Dutch 
settlers,  this  sequestered  glen  has  long  been  known  by  the  name 
of  Sleepy  Hollow.  A  drowsy,  dreamy  influence  seems  to  hang 
over  the  land,  and  to  pervade  the  very  atmosphere.  Some  say 
that  the  place  was  bewitched  by  a  High  German  doctor,  during 
the  early  days  of  the  settlement ;  others,  that  an  old  Indian  chief, 
the  prophet  or  wizard  of  his  tribe,  held  his  powwows  there  before 
the  country  was  discovered  by  Master  Hendrick  Hudson.  Certain 
it  is,  the  place  still  continues  under  the  sway  of  some  witching 


t4  ORAL  READING 

power,  that  liolds  a  spell  over  the  minds  of  the  good  people,  cau* 
ing  them  to  walk  in  a  continual  reverie.  The  whole  neighborhood 
abounds  with  local  tales,  haunted  spots,  and  twilight  superstitions. 

The  dominant  spirit,  however,  that  haunts  this  enchanted  re- 
Sfion,  and  seems  to  be  commander-in-chief  of  all  the  powers  of 
the  air,  is  the  apparition  of  a  figure  on  horseback,  without  a 
head.  It  is  said  by  some  to  be  the  ghost  of  a  Hessian  trooper, 
whose  head  had  been  carried  away  by  a  cannon-ball,  in  some 
nameless  battle  during  the  Revolutionary  War,  and  who  is  ever 
and  anon  seen  by  tlie  country  folk,  hurrying  along  in  the  gloom 
of  night,  as  if  on  the  wings  of  the  wind.  His  haunts  are  not  con- 
fined to  the  valley,  but  extend  at  times  to  the  adjacent  roads,  and 
especially  to  the  vicinity  of  a  church  at  no  great  distance.  In- 
deed, certain  of  the  most  authentic  historians  of  those  parts,  who 
have  been  careful  in  collecting  and  collating  the  floating  facts 
concerning  this  spectre,  allege  that  the  body  of  the  trooper  having 
been  buried  in  the  churchyard,  the  ghost  rides  forth  to  the  scene 
of  battle  in  nightly  quest  of  his  head,  and  that  the  rushing  speed 
with  which  he  sometimes  passes  along  the  Hollow,  like  a  mid- 
night blast,  is  owing  to  his  being  belated,  and  in  a  hurry  to  get 
back  to  the  churchyard  before  daybreak. 

Such  is  the  general  purport  of  this  legendary  superstition, 
which  has  furnished  materials  for  many  a  wild  story  in  that  re- 
gion of  shadows ;  and  the  spectre  is  known  at  all  the  country 
firesides,  by  the  name  of  the  Headless  Horseman  of  Sleepy  Hol- 
low. 

In  this  by-place  of  nature  there  abode,  in  a  remote  period  of 
American  history,  that  is  to  say,  some  thirty  years  since,  a  worthy 
wight  of  the  name  of  Ichabod  Crane,  who  sojourned,  or,  as  he 
expressed  it,  "  tarried,"  in  Sleepy  Hollow,  for  the  purpose  of  in- 
structing the  children  of  the  vicinity.  The  cognomen  of  Crane 
was  not  inapplicable  to  his  person.  He  was  tall,  but  exceedingly 
lank,  with  narrow  shoulders,  long  arms  and  legs,  hands  that 
dangled  a  mile  out  of  his  sleeves,  feet  that  might  have  served 
for  shovels,  and  his  whole  frame  most  loosely  hung  together. 
His  head  was  email,  and  flat  at  top,  with  huge  ears,  large  green 
glassy  eyes,  and  a  long  snipe  nose,  so  that  it  looked  like  a  weather- 
cock perched  upon  his  spindle  neck  to  tell  which  way  the  wind 
blew.  To  see  him  striding  along  the  profile  of  a  hill  on  a  windy 


THE  RELATION  OF  THOUGHT  AND  SPEECH    25 

day,  with  his  clothes  bagging  and  fluttering  about  him,  one  might 
have  mistaken  him  for  the  genius  of  famine  descending  upon  the 
earth,  or  some  scarecrow  eloped  from  a  cornfield. 

In  addition  to  his  other  vocations,  he  was  the  singing-master 
of  the  neighborhood,  and  picked  up  many  bright  shillings  by  in- 
structing the  young  folks  in  psalmody.  It  was  a  matter  of  no 
little  vanity  to  him  on  Sundays,  to  take  his  station  in  front  of  the 
church  gallery,  with  a  band  of  chosen  singers ;  where,  in  his  own 
mind,  he  completely  carried  away  the  i)alm  from  the  parson. 
Certain  it  is,  his  voice  resounded  far  above  all  the  rest  of  the  con- 
gregation ;  and  there  are  peculiar  quavers  still  to  be  heard  in  that 
church,  and  which  may  even  be  heard  half  a  mile  off,  quite  to 
the  opposite  side  of  the  mill-pond,  on  a  still  Sunday  morning, 
which  are  said  to  be  legitimately  descended  from  the  nose  of 
Ichabod  Crane.  Thus,  by  divers  little  makeshifts,  in  that  ingen- 
ious way  which  is  commonly  denominated  "by  hook  and  by 
crook,"  the  worthy  pedagogue  got  on  tolerably  enough,  and  was 
thought,  by  all  who  understood  nothing  of  the  labor  of  headwork, 
to  have  a  wonderfully  easy  life  of  it. 

Among  the  musical  disciples  who  assembled,  one  evening  in 
each  week,  to  receive  his  instructions  in  psalmody,  was  Katrina 
Van  Tassel,  the  daughter  and  only  child  of  a  substantial  Dutch 
farmer.  She  was  a  blooming  lass  of  fresh  eighteen  ;  plump  as  a 
partridge ;  ripe  and  melting  and  rosy-cheeked  as  one  of  her  fa- 
ther's peaches,  and  universally  famed,  not  merely  for  her  beauty, 
but  her  vast  expectations.  She  was  withal  a  little  of  a  coquette, 
as  might  be  perceived  even  in  her  dress,  which  was  a  mixture  of 
ancient  and  modern  fashions,  as  most  suited  to  set  off  her  charms. 

Ichabod  Crane  had  a  soft  and  foolish  heart  towards  the  sex ; 
and  it  is  not  to  be  wondered  at,  that  so  temjiting  a  morsel  soon 
found  favor  in  his  eyes,  more  especially  after  he  had  visited  her 
in  her  paternal  mansion.  Old  Baltus  Van  Tassel  was  a  perfect 
picture  of  a  thriving,  contented,  liberal-hearted  farmer.  He  sel- 
dom, it  is  true,  sent  either  his  eyes  or  his  thoughts  beyond  the 
boundaries  of  his  own  farm  ;  but  within  those  everything  was 
snug,  happy  and  well-conditioned.  He  was  satisfied  with  his 
wealth,  but  not  proud  of  it ;  and  piqued  himself  upon  the  hearty 
abundance,  rather  than  the  style  in  which  he  lived. 

As  the  enraptured  Ichabod  rolled  his  great  green  eyes  over  the 


26  ORAL  READING 

fat  meadow  lands,  the  rich  fieUls  of  wheat,  of  rye,  of  buckwheat, 
and  Indian  corn,  and  the  orchards  burdened  with  ruddy  fruit, 
which  surrounded  the  warm  tenement  of  Van  Tassel,  his  heart 
yearned  after  the  damsel  who  was  to  inherit  these  domains,  and 
his  imagination  expanded  with  the  idea,  how  tliey  might  be  read- 
ily turned  into  cash,  and  the  money  invested  in  immense  tracts 
of  wild  land,  and  shingle  palaces  in  the  wilderness.  Nay,  his  busy 
fancy  already  realized  his  hopes,  and  presented  to  him  the  bloom- 
ing Katrina,  with  a  whole  family  of  children,  mounted  on  the  top 
of  a  wagon  loaded  with  household  trumpery,  with  pots  and  ket- 
tles dangling  beneath ;  and  he  beheld  himself  bestriding  a  pacing 
mare,  with  a  colt  at  her  heels,  setting  out  for  Kentucky,  Tennes- 
see, —  or  the  Lord  knows  where  ! 

From  the  moment  Ichabod  laid  his  eyes  upon  these  regions  of 
delight,  the  peace  of  his  mind  was  at  an  end,  and  his  only  study 
was  how  to  gain  the  affections  of  the  peerless  daughter  of  Van 
Tassel.  In  this  enterprise,  however,  he  had  more  real  difficulties 
than  generally  fell  to  the  lot  of  a  knight-errant  of  yore,  who  sel- 
dom had  anything  but  giants,  enchanters,  fiery  dragons,  and  such 
like  easily  conquered  adversaries,  to  contend  with ;  he  had  to  en- 
counter a  host  of  fearful  adversaries  of  real  flesh  and  blood,  the 
numerous  rustic  admirers,  who  beset  every  portal  to  her  heart, 
keeping  a  watchful  and  angry  eye  upon  each  other,  but  ready  to 
fly  out  in  the  common  cause  against  any  new  competitor. 

Among  these,  the  most  formidable  was  a  burly,  roaring,  roy- 
fccering  blade,  of  the  name  of  Abraham,  or,  according  to  the  Dutch 
abbreviation,  Brom  Van  Brunt,  the  hero  of  the  country  round, 
which  rang  with  his  feats  of  strength  and  hardihood.  He  waa 
broad-shouldered  and  double-jointed,  with  short  curly  black  hair, 
and  a  bluff  but  not  unpleasant  countenance,  having  a  mingled  air 
of  fun  and  arrogance.  From  his  Herculean  frame  and  great 
powers  of  limb,  he  had  received  the  nickname  of  Brom  Bones, 
by  which  he  was  universally  known.  He  was  famed  for  great 
knowledge  and  skill  in  horsemanship,  being  as  dexterous  on  horse- 
back as  a  Tartar.  He  was  always  ready  for  either  a  fight  or  a 
frolic ;  but  had  more  mischief  than  ill-will  in  his  composition ; 
and  with  all  his  overbearing  roughness,  there  was  a  strong  dash 
of  waggish  good  humor  at  bottom.  He  had  tliree  or  four  boon 
companions,  who  regarded  him  as  their  model,  and  at  the  head 


THE  RELATION  OF  THOUGHT  AND  SPEECH    27 

of  whom  he  scoured  the  country,  attending  every  scene  of  feud 
or  merriment  for  miles  round.  The  neighbors  looked  upon  him 
with  a  mixture  of  awe,  admiration,  and  good-will ;  and,  when  any 
madcap  prank  or  rustic  brawl  occurred  in  the  vicinity,  always 
shook  their  heads,  and  warranted  Brom  Bones  was  at  the  bottom 
of  it. 

This  rantipole  hero  had  for  some  time  singled  out  the  bloom- 
ing Katrina  for  the  object  of  his  uncouth  gallantries,  and  though 
his  amorous  toyings  were  something  like  the  gentle  caresses  and 
endearments  of  a  bear,  yet  it  was  whispered  that  she  did  not  alto- 
gether discourage  his  hopes. 

Such  was  the  formidable  rival  with  whom  Ichabod  Crane  had 
to  contend,  and,  considering  all  tilings,  a  stouter  man  than  he  would 
have  shrunk  from  the  competition,  and  a  wiser  man  would  have 
despaired.  He  had,  however,  a  happy  mixture  of  pliability  and 
perseverance  in  his  nature ;  he  was  in  form  and  spirit  like  a  sup- 
ple-jack—  yielding,  but  tough;  though  he  bent,  he  never  broke; 
and  though  he  bowed  beneath  the  slightest  pressure,  yet,  the 
moment  it  was  away  — jerk  !  —  he  was  as  erect,  and  carried  his 
head  as  high  as  ever. 

Biom,  who  had  a  degree  of  rough  chivalry  in  his  nature,  would 
fain  have  carried  matters  to  open  warfare  and  have  settled  tbeir 
pretensions  to  the  lady,  according  to  the  mode  of  those  most  con- 
cise and  simple  reasoners,  the  knights-errant  of  yore, — by  single 
combat ;  but  Ichabod  was  too  conscious  of  the  superior  might  of 
his  adversary  to  enter  the  lists  against  him  ;  he  had  overheard  a 
boast  of  Bones,  that  he  would  "  double  the  schoolmaster  up,  and 
lay  him  on  a  shelf  of  his  own  schoolhouse  "  ;  and  he  was  too  wary 
to  give  him  an  opportunity.  There  was  something  extremely  pro- 
voking in  this  obstinately  pacific  system ;  it  left  Brom  no  alter- 
native but  to  draw  upon  the  funds  of  rustic  waggery  in  his  dis- 
position, and  to  play  off  boorish  practical  jokes  upon  his  rival. 
Ichabod  became  the  object  of  whimsical  persecution  to  Bones  and 
his  gang  of  rough  riders.  They  harried  his  hitherto  peaceful 
domains,  smoked  out  his  singing-school  by  stopping  up  the  chim- 
ney, broke  into  the  schoolhouse  at  night,  and  turned  everything 
topsy-turvy,  so  that  the  poor  schoolmaster  began  to  think  all  the 
witches  in  the  country  held  their  meetings  there. 

In  this  way  matters  went  on  for  some  time,  without  produciuS 


f8  ORAL  READING 

any  material  effect  on  the  relative  situations  of  the  contending 
powers.  On  a  tine  aiitiunnal  afternoon,  Icliahod,  in  pensive  mood, 
sat  enthroned  on  the  lofty  stool  from  whence  he  usually  watclied 
all  the  concerns  of  his  little  literary  realm.  In  liis  hand  he  swayed 
a  ferule,  tliat  sceptre  of  despotic  jiower ;  the  birch  of  justice  re- 
posed on  three  nails  behind  the  throne,  a  constant  terror  to  evil 
doers.  Apparently  there  had  been  some  apjjalling  act  of  justice 
recently  inflicted,  for  his  scholars  were  all  busily  intent  upon  their 
books,  or  slyly  whispering  behind  them  with  one  eye  kept  upon 
the  master ;  and  a  kind  of  buzzing  stillness  reigned  throughout 
the  schoolroom.  It  was  suddenly  interrupted  by  the  appearance 
of  a  negro  in  tow-cloth  jacket  and  trowsers,  and  mounted  on  the 
back  of  a  ragged,  wild,  half-broken  colt,  which  he  managed  with 
a  rope  by  way  of  halter.  He  came  clattering  up  to  the  school- 
door  with  an  invitation  to  Ichabod  to  attend  a  merry-making 
or  *'  quilting-frolic,"  to  be  held  that  evening  at  Mynheer  Van 
Tassel's. 

All  was  now  bustle  and  hubbub  in  the  late  quiet  schoolroom. 
Books  were  flung  aside  without  being  put  away  on  the  shelves, 
inkstands  were  overturned,  benches  thrown  down,  and  the  whole 
school  was  turned  loose  an  hour  before  the  usual  time,  bursting 
forth  like  a  legion  of  young  imps,  yelping  and  racketing  about 
the  green  in  joy  at  their  early  emancipation. 

The  gallant  Ichabod  now  spent  at  least  an  extra  half  hour  at 
his  toilet,  brushing  and  furbishing  up  his  best,  and  indeed  only 
suit  of  rusty  black,  and  arranging  his  locks  by  a  bit  of  broken 
looking-glass  that  hung  up  in  the  schoolhouse.  That  he  might 
make  his  appearance  before  his  mistress  in  the  true  style  of  a 
cavalier,  he  borrowed  a  horse  from  the  farmer  with  whom  he  was 
domiciliated,  a  choleric  old  Dutchman  of  the  name  of  Hans  Van 
Ripper,  and,  thus  gallantly  mounted,  issued  forth  like  a  knight- 
errant  in  quest  of  adventures.  But  it  is  meet  I  should,  in  the  true 
spirit  of  romantic  story,  give  some  account  of  the  looks  and  equip- 
ments of  my  hero  and  his  steed.  The  animal  he  bestrode  was  a 
broken-down  plow-horse,  that  had  outlived  almost  everything  but 
its  viciousness.  He  was  gaunt  and  shagged,  with  a  ewe  neck,  and 
a  head  lilce  a  hammer  ;  his  rusty  mane  and  tail  were  tangled  and 
knotted  with  burs ;  one  eye  had  lost  its  pupil,  and  was  glaring 
and  spectral,  but  the  other  had  the  gleam  of  a  genuine  devil  in 


THE  RELATION  OF  THOUGHT  AND  SPEECH    29 

it.  Still  he  must  have  had  fire  and  mettle  in  his  day,  if  we  may 
judge  from  the  name  he  bore  of  Gunpowder.  He  had,  in  fact, 
been  a  favorite  steed  of  his  master's,  the  choleric  Van  Ripper, 
who  was  a  furious  rider,  and  had  infused,  very  probably,  some  of 
his  own  spirit  into  the  animal ;  for,  old  and  broken-down  as  he 
looked,  there  was  more  of  the  lurking  devil  in  him  than  in  any 
young  filly  in  the  country. 

Ichabod  was  a  suitable  figure  for  such  a  steed.  He  rode  with 
«liort  stirrups,  which  brought  his  knees  nearly  up  to  the  pommel 
of  the  saddle ;  his  sharp  elbows  stuck  out  like  grasshoppers' ; 
he  carried  his  whip  perpendicularly  in  his  hand,  like  a  sceptre, 
and  as  his  horse  jogged  on,  the  motion  of  his  arms  was  not  unlike 
the  flapping  of  a  pair  of  wings.  A  small  wool  hat  rested  on  the  top 
of  his  nose,  for  so  his  scanty  strip  of  forehead  might  be  called, 
and  the  skirts  of  his  black  coat  fluttered  out  almost  to  the  horse's 
tail.  Such  was  the  appearance  of  Ichabod  and  his  steed  as  they 
shambled  out  of  the  gate  of  Hans  Van  Ripper,  and  it  was  alto- 
gether such  an  apparition  as  is  seldom  to  be  met  with  in  broad 
daylight.  ^ 

1  An  abridgment  of  the  rest  of  this  story  -will  be  found  at  the  end  of  chap- 
ter V,  where  it  has  been  placed  as  an  exercise  in  the  principles  of  that  chapter. 


r^^^V'*^*  CHAPTER   II 

\  GROUPING 

7.  The  basis  of  grouping 
In  purposeful  speech  words  are  couibined  in  groups 
t  according  to  the  ideas  and  images  the  speaker  wishes  to 
communicate.  Without  clear  thinking  there  can  be  no  ac- 
curate grouping,  and  without  clear  grouping  no  clear  ex- 
pression of  thought.  Attention  is  limited  temporarily  to 
the  thought  that  determines  the  word  group. 

To  the  homeless  man  —  who  has  no  spot  on  this  wide  world 
which  he  can  truly  call  his  own,  —  there  is  a  momentary  feel- 
ing of  something   like  independence  and  territorial  consequence 

—  when,  —  after  a  weary  day's  travel,  —  he  kicks  off  his  boots, 

—  thrusts  his  feet  into  slippers, —  and  stretches  himself  before  an 
inn  fire.  Irving  :  Stratford-oii-Avon. 

In  reading  the  above  selection  aloud  it  will  be  observed 
that  the  words  are  combined  in  groups,  or  "  thought  units," 
and  these  groups  are  separated  from  each  other  by  pause 
and  change  of  pitch.  Furthermore,  all  words  within  each 
group  are  usually  merged  and  blended  by  uninterrupted 
utterance. 

I.  Pause.  Word  groups  are  always  set  apart  by  pauses. 
The  length  of  the  interval  of  silence  depends  on  the  relative 
importance  of  the  ideas,  the  feeling  of  the  speaker  and  the 
conditions  under  which  he  speaks.  Pauses  in  the  utterance 
of  profound,  weighty,  and  solemn  thought  tend  to  be  longer 
than  in  thought  of  a  lighter  and  more  joyous  nature.  The 
number  in  the  audience  and  the  size  of  the  room  also  influ- 
ence the  length  of  pauses.  Length  of  pause  as  determined 
by  the  character  of  the  thought  is  illustrated  in  the  two 


GROUPING  31 

following  extracts.    Note  that  in  the  first  the  pauses  are 
longer  than  in  the  second  spirited  selection. 

We  live  in  deeds,  not  years ;  in  thoughts,  not  breaths ; 
In  feehngs,  not  in  figures  on  a  dial. 
We  should  count  time  by  heart  throbs.  He  most  lives 
Who  thinks  the  most,  feels  the  noblest,  acts  the  best. 

Philip  James  Bailey  :  Festus. 

Captain  of  our  fairy  band, 
Helena  is  here  at  hand ; 
And  the  youth,  mistook  by  me, 
Pleading  for  a  lover's  fee. 
Shall  we  their  fond  pageant  see  ? 
Lord,  what  fools  these  mortals  be ! 
Shakespeare  :  Midsummer  Night's  Dream,,  ill,  ii. 

2.  Change  of  pitch.  With  change  in  thought  in  passings 
from  one  group  to  another  there  is  normally  a  resultant 
change  in  the  pitch  of  the  voice.  The  more  vividly  im- 
ages are  pictured  in  the  mind  and  the  more  definite  and 
vigorous  the  thinking  the  more  pronounced  will  be  the 
change  in  pitch.  Monotony  is  evidence  of  failure  on  the 
part  of  the  speaker  to  grasp  the  meaning  of  the  individual 
ideas  or  to  discover  their  relative  importance.  Test  the  state- 
ments by  reading  aloud  the  following  sentences :  ^  — 

At  last  we  came 

and  with  much  fatigue 
with  no  small  difficulty 

to  our  journey's  end. 
through  deep  roads  and  bad  weather 

^  It  will  be  oTDserved  that  the  underlined  phrases  in  the  illustrations  given 
above  carry  the  principal  thought  of  the  sentence.  If  the  utterance  is  monoto- 
nous, read  only  the  main  part  of  the  sentence,  omitting  the  explanatory  or 
qualifying  plirases.  When  the  principal  thought  is  clearly  in  mind,  read  the 
sentence  as  a  whole,  adding  the  amplifying  ideas  of  the  phrases  not  read  be- 
fore. This  exercise  often  proves  helpful  in  awakening  a  sense  of  the  thought 
value  of  phrases  and  of  their  relation  to  each  other.  When  these  values  are 
nnderstood,  the  fact  will  be  evident  in  change  of  pitch  between  thought 
groups  and  in  the  variety  of  utterance  characteristic  of  conversation.  The 
space  intervals  allowed  between  sections  of  the  above  sentences  are  meant 
merely  to  indicate  thought  divisions,  not  definite  intervals  of  pitch. 


S2  ORAL  HEADING 

If  you  go  to-day 

I  must  stay  at  home. 

/  conie  now  to  consider  hriejly        the  true  g'*'ound  of  complainU 
but  with  proper  precision 

Cromwell  was  evidently  laying  the  foundation  of  an 

though  in  an  irregular  manner 
admirable  system. 

A^  3.  Uninterrupted  utterance. ^  The  appearance  of  words 
in  print,  set  apart  by  sjjaces,  leads  easily  to  the  idea  that 
they  should  be  separated  in  speech.  One  of  the  most  com- 
mon faults  of  the  beginner  is  the  practice  of  pausing  after 
each  word.  In  conversation  and  all  ordinary  forms  of  speech, 
the  words  of  a  phrase  are  bound  together  and  merged  into 
one  continuous  sound,  broken  only  by  stop  consonants  like 
t,  b,  p,  k,  the  enunciation  of  which  slightly  obstructs  the 
tone  passage.2  We  do  not  say  "How  —  are — you?"  but 
"Howareyou?"  The  truth  of  this  statement  will  be  obvi- 
ous if  the  following  sentences  are  spoken,  first  as  separate 
words,  then  as  one  word,  with  all  sounds  merged :  — 

1  "  No  amount  of  study  of  the  sounrls  only  of  a  sentence  ■will  enable  us  to 
recoprnize  the  individual  -words  of  which  it  consists,"  Henry  Sweet:  Primer 
of  Phonetics. 

2  The  classification  of  utterance  into  "effusive,"  "expulsive,"  and  "ex- 
plosive," while  it  has  some  justification  in  fact,  has  led  to  a  good  deal  of  elo- 
cutionary unnaturalness.  It  is  often  true  that  exclamations  of  alarm,  anger, 
exultation,  and  the  like,  and  those  occasional  utterances  in  which  individual 
words  are  of  great  weight  —  as,  for  example,  Hamlet's  last  speech,  "The 
rest  —  is — silence!" — are  marked  by  separate  voicing  of  each  word,  but  it 
will  be  observed  that  such  utterance  is  the  result  of  abnormal  states  of  feeling 
or  of  rare  and  exceptional  conditions.  The  application  of  the  expulsive  and  ex- 
plosive utterance  to  the  delivery  of  orations  and  declamations  is  perhaps  the 
cause  of  much  of  the  disfavor  into  which  elocution  has  fallen.  One  can  hardly 
imagine  Lincoln  as  saying,  "  Fourscore  (!)  and  seven  (!)  years  (!)  ago  (!)  our  (!) 
fathers  (!)  brought  forth  (!)  upon  this  continent  (!)  a  new  (!)  nation  (!)  "  ;  yet 
students  are  still  being  taught  to  declaim  the  speech  in  this  way.  An  unas- 
suming, simple,  conversational  style  suits  the  Gettysburg  Speech.  There  is  no 
rant,  declamation,  expulsiveness,  or  explosiveness  about  it.  This  may  be  said 
in  general  of  the  unpretentious  utterance  of  all  earnest  men. 


GROUPING  33 

■^e  —  are  —  all  —  well.  Weareallwell. 

]yXay  — I — have  —  your  —  answer  ?  Maylhaveyouranswer  ? 

I  —  hope  —  you  —  will  —  come.  Ihopeyouwillcome. 

With  —  all  —  my  —  heart.  Withallmyheart. 

Thy  —  shores  —  are  —  empires.  Thyshoresareempires. 

We  —  are  —  all  —  free  —  men.  Weareallfreemen. 

There  —  is  —  no  — longer  —  any  —  room  —  for  —  hope. 

Thereisnolongeranyroomforhope. 

Practice  the  lines  quoted  below,  applying  the  principles 
of  pause,  change  of  pitch,  and  uninterrupted  tone  in  tlie 
voicing  of  each  phrase.^ 

The  moan  of  doves  in  immemorial  elms 

and  the  murmur  of  innumerable  bees. 

changed  in  all 
Thy  shores  are  empires 

save  thee. 

By  Nebo^s  lonely  mountain 

on  this  side  Jordan's  wave 

in  the  land  of  Moab 
In  a  vale 

there  lies  a  lonely  grave. 

that  of  all  the  blithe  sounds  he  had  ever  heard 
Scrooge  said  often  afterwards         these  were  the  blithest  to 
his  ear. 

8.    Causes  of  faulty  grovpivg 
Two  frequent  sources  of  faulty  grouping  are  (V)  hap- 
hazard  breatliiiig,  and  (2)  punctuation, 

I.  Grouping  and  breathing.   In  normal  speech  the  rhythm 

^  To  prove  the  validity  of  these  principles  the  lines  may  he  read  ag^ain  with 
the  omission  of  the  modulations,  first  without  pause,  then  in  a  monotone,  and, 
finally,  with  each  word  spoken  separately.  Indeed,  the  value  and  function  of 
any  expressive  variation  of  the  voice  may  be  tested  hy  deliberately  eliminat' 
ing  it  in  the  utterance  of  a  particular  sentence. 


84  ORAL  READING 

of  breathincj  is  controlled  by  the  rhythmic  prof^ress  of 
thought.  A\  hen  we  have  an  idea  to  express,  we  instinct- 
ively take  the  breath  and  retain  it  in  preparation  for  speech. 
The  breath  is  naturally  replenished  during  pauses  between 
ideas.  The  thoughtless  reader  is  prone  to  hasten  over  words, 
pronouncing  them  as  fast  as  breathing  and  articulation  per- 
mit. But  the  breathing  of  the  reader  who  thinks  clearly,  and 
whose  breath  is  controlled  by  his  tliinking,  does  not  inter- 
rupt the  utterance  of  word  groups.  Gasping  and  catching 
of  breath  during  the  utterance  of  phrases  prevent  the  easy 
and  clear  rendering  of  thought,  make  listening  difficult,  and 
indicate  failure  on  the  part  of  the  speaker  to  think  clearly 
or  to  coordinate  the  action  of  the  mind  and  the  voice.  Read 
the  following  lines  aloud,  taking  breath  only  at  the  points 
indicated  by  dashes,  and  observe  the  peculiar  and  chaotic 
effect  produced  by  the  lack  of  correspondence  between 
thinking  and  breathing.  Then  re-read  the  lines,  allowing 
the  breath  to  be  governed  by  the  thought. 

The  dealer  stooped  —  once  more  this  time  to  replace  —  the 
glass  upon  the  shelf  his  thin  hlond  hair  falling  —  over  his  eyes 
as  he  did  so.  —  Markheim  moved  —  a  little  nearer  with  one 
hand  —  in  the  pocket  of  his  great  coat. 

The  dealer  stooped  once  more,  —  this  time  to  replace  the  glass 
upon  the  shelf,  —  his  thin  blond  hair  falling  over  his  eyes  as  he 
did  so.  Markheim  moved  a  little  nearer  —  with  one  hand  in  the 
pocket  of  his  great  coat. 

Stevenson :  Markheim.^ 

2.  Grouping  and  punctuation.  Punctuation  cannot  be 
relied  on  as  a  guide  to  grouping.  It  often  happens  that 
pauses  coincide  with  punctuation  marks ;  often  they  do 
not.  Punctuation  helps  to  indicate  the  structure  of  the 
sentence  to  the  eye.    Grouping  is  not  determined  by  gram- 

1  Used  with  the  kind  permission  of  the  publishers,  Charles  Scribner's 
Sons. 


GROUPING  35 

matical  structure,  but  by  ideas  and  images.  It  is  for  the 
ear  and  the  mind  of  the  auditor.  The  sense  of  the  un- 
punctuated  passage  may  be  clear  to  the  eye,  while  the 
same  j)assage,  if  read  aloud  without  pauses,  would  be  diffi- 
cult to  understand.  A  sentence  from  Tennyson's  In  Me- 
moriam  illustrates  this  :  — 

As  dear  to  me  as  sacred  wine 
To  dying  lips  was  all  he  said. 

Conversational  usage  observes  no  pause  in  "Yes,  sir," 
though  the  structure  requires  a  comma.  We  write,  "  He 
said  that,  if  the  rain  stopped,  he  would  resume  his  jour- 
ney"; but  we  speak  the  sentence  thus:  "He  said — that 
if  the  rain  stopped  —  he  would  resume  his  journey."  "  He 
said "  is  one  idea ;  what  he  said  another,  in  fact,  two 
others.  The  lack  of  coincidence  between  grouping  and 
punctuation  is  further  illustrated  in  the  following  quota- 
tions :  — 

It  was  felt  —  that  the  loyal  element  in  the  border  states  — - 
ought  to  be  recognized  - —  and,  therefore  it  was  —  that,  for  the 
vice-presidency  —  was  named  a  man  —  who  began  life  in  the 
lowest  station. 

This  is  the  very  coinage  of  your  brain : 
This  bodiless  creation  —  ecstasy 
Is  very  cunning  in. 

Shakespeare  :  Hamlet,  iii,  iv. 

3.  Examples  of  faulty  grouping.  Knowledge  of  the 
author's  meaning  is  the  only  guide  to  correct  and  clear 
grouping.  The  following  illustrations  represent  actual  class- 
room errors.    Correct  the  grouping. 

Silas  Marner  decided  to  keep  the  child  —  who  was  frozen  one 
evening  —  outside  his  house  in  the  snow. 

George  Eliot :  Silas  Marner. 


86  ORAL  READING 

And  then,  the  chasm 
Opening  to  view,  I  saw  a  orowcl  within 
Of  serpents  terrible,  so  strange  of  shape 
And  hideous  —  that  remembrance  in  my  veins  — 
Yet  slu'iuks  the  vital  current. 

Dante :   The  Inferno,  Canto  xxiv. 

The  roaring  camp-fire  with  rude  humor  painted  — 

The  rudily  tints  of  health  — 
On  haggard  face  and  form  that  drooped  and  fainted 

In  the  fierce  race  for  wealth. 

Bret  Harte  :  Dickens  in  Camp. 

I  quote  as  a  specimen  some  words  of  a  living  poet  himself  — -• 
closely  akin  to  Shelley  in  the  character  of  his  genius. 

And  beneath  from  the  pebbles  —  in  passing  a  spark  — 
Struck  out  by  a  steed  flying  —  fearless  and  fleet. 

Longfellow  :  Paxil  Revere' s  Ride. 

Hounds  are  in  their  couples  —  yelling 
Hawks  are  whistling,  horns  are  knelling ; 
Merrily,  merrily,  mingle  they, 
"  Waken,  lords  and  ladies  gay." 

Scott :  limiting  Song. 

A  frequent  fault  of  inexperienced  readers  is  the  break- 
ing up  of  the  thought  of  a  phrase  into  its  smallest  details, 
setting  out  each  particular  phase  of  the  whole  idea  as  a 
distinct  and  important  thought-unit.  But  one  cannot  em- 
phasize everything.  The  minor  aspects  of  a  thought  must 
be  combined  and  subordinated  in  such  a  way  as  to  give 
unity  and  prominence  to  the  complete  image.  This  over- 
insistence  upon  details  is  illustrated  in  the  following  ex- 
tract. Read  it  aloud  as  phrased,  then  read  it  with  such 
grouping  as  shall  give  whole  images,  unbroken  by  pauses 
or  hesitations. 


GROUPING  37 

If  ever  —  man  was  formed  —  to  sit  —  on  a  log  —  it  was  —  Old 
Phelps.  He  was  essentially  —  a  contemplative  —  person.  Walk- 
ing —  on  a  country  road  —  or  anywhere  —  in  the  "  open  "  —  was 
irksome  —  to  him.  He  had  a  shambling  —  loose-jointed  gait  — 
not  unlike  —  that  of  the  bear;  his  short  legs  —  bowed  out  —  as 
if  —  they  had  been  more  —  in  the  habit  —  of  climbing  trees  — 
than  of  walking. 

If  ever  man  was  formed  to  sit  on  a  log,  —  it  was  Old  Phelps. 
He  was  essentially  a  contemplative  person.  Walking  on  a  coun- 
try road,  —  or  anywhere  in  the  "  open,"  —  was  irksome  to  him. 
He  had  a  shambling,  loose-jointed  gait,  —  not  unlike  that  of  the 
bear  ;  —  his  short  legs  bowed  out,  —  as  if  they  had  been  more  in 
the  habit  of  climbing  trees  —  than  of  walking. 

Charles  Dudley  Warner :  In  the  Wilderness. 

y  PEOBLEMS   IN   GROUPING 

"n  1.    General  ProUems 

The  various  aspects  of  the  problem  of  grouping  are  illus- 
trated in  the  examples  appended  to  this  chapter.  Practice 
on  these  problems  should  be  continued  until  the  habit  is 
acquired  of  taking  a  phrase  or  sentence  with  the  eye  and 
the  mind  before  its  words  are  spoken,  until  transitions 
from  phrase  to  phrase  and  thought  to  thought  are  marked, 
as  in  conversation,  by  pauses  and  change  of  pitch,  until 
breathing  is  regulated  by  the  demands  of  the  thought  and 
phrasing  becomes  smooth,  rhythmical,  and  easy. 

Right  expression  is  a  part  of  character.  As  somebody  has 
said,  by  learning  to  speak  with  precision,  you  learn  to 
think  with  correctness,  and  the  way  to  firm  and  vigorous 
speech  lies  through  the  cultivation  of  high  and  noble  senti- 
ments. John  Morley  :   On  the  Study  of  Literature. 

The  pavilion  in  which  these  personages  were,  had;  as  be- 
came the  times  as  well  as  the  personal  character  of  Rich- 
ard^iore  of  a  warlike  than  a  sumptuous  or  royal  character. 

Scott. 


4 


J  OR^VL  READING 

3.  I  had  a  method  of  my  own  of  writing  half  words,  and 
leaving  out  some  altogether,  so  as  to  keep  the  substance 
and  the  language  of  (tny  discourse  which  I  had  heardTt 
much  in  viewrthat  I  could  give  it  very  completely  soon 
after  I  had  taken  it  down. 

Boswell:  Life  of  Johnson. 

4.  Supper  was  overfand  the  process  of  digestion  proceeding 

as  favorably ^s,  under  the  intluence  of  complete  tranquility  -^ 
and  cheerful  conversation,  most  wise  men  conversant  with 
the  anatomy  and  functions  of  the  human  frame  will  con- 
sider that  it  ought  to  have  proceeded,'when  the  three  friends 
were  startled  by  the  noise  of  loud  and  angry  threatenings 
below  stairs. 

Dickens. 

5.  The  man  that  once  did  sell  the  lion's  skin 
"While  the  beast  liv'd,  was  kill'd  with  hunting  him. 

Shakespeare :  King  Henry  V,  iv,  iii. 

6.  This  thought  is  as  a  death,  which  cannot  choose 
But  weep  to  have  that  which  it  fears  to  lose. 

Shakespeare :  Sonnet  64. 

7.  The  hills. 
Rock-ribbed,  and  ancient  as  the  sun  ;  the  vales 
Stretching  in  pensive  quietness  between  ; 
The  venerable  woods  ;  rivers  that  move 

In  majesty,  and  the  complaining  brooks. 

That  make  the  meadows  green  ;"and,  poured  round  all, 

Old  ocean's  gray  and  melancholy  waste,  — ^ 


Are  but  the  solemn  decorations,  all 
Of  the  great  tomb  of  man ! 


Bryant:  Thanatopsia. 


And  all  the  three  were  silent  Seeing,  pitch'd 
Beside  the  Castle  Perilous  on  flat  field, 
A  huge  pavilion  like  a  mountain  peak 
Sunder  the  glooming  crimson  on  the  marge, 


GROUPING  39 

Black,  with  black  banner,  and  a  long  black  horn 
Beside  it  hanging  ;  which  Sir  Gareth  graspt, 
And  so,  before  the  two  could  hinder  him, 
Sent  aU  his  heart  and  breath  thro'  all  the  horn. 

Tennyson :   Gareth  and  Lynette. 

9.  The  cloud-capp'd  towers,  the  gorgeous  palaces, 
The  solemn  temples,  the  great  globe  itself. 
Yea,  all  which  it  inherit,  shall  dissolve, 
And,  like  this  insubstantial  pageant  faded. 
Leave  not  a  rack  behind.   We  are  such  stuff 
As  dreams  are  made  on,  and  our  little  life 
Is  rounded  with  a  sleep. 

Shakespeare  :   The  Tempest,  iv,  L 

10.  The  shepherds  on  the  lawn, 
Or  ere  the  point  of  dawn, 

Sat  simply  chatting  in  a  rustic  row ; 
Full  little  thought  they  than 
That  the  mighty  Pan 
Was  kindly  come  to  live  with  them  below : 
Perhaps  their  loves,  or  else  their  sheep, 
Was  all  that  did  their  silly  thoughts  so  busy  keep. 

Milton :  Hymn  on  the  Morning  of  Christ's  Nativity. 

11.  Your  children  and  your  children's  children  shall  be  taught 
to  ponder  the  simplicity  and  deep  wisdom  of  utterances 
which,  in  their  time,  passed,  in  party  heat,  as  idle  words. 

Beecher  :  Address  on  Abraham  Lincoln. 

12.  All  places  that  the  eye  of  heaven  visits 
Are  to  a  wise  man  ports  and  happy  havens. 

Shakespeare  :  King  Richard  II,  i,  iii. 

13.  Then,  too,  your  Prophet  from  his  angel  brow 
Shall  cast  the  Veil  that  hides  its  splendors  now, 

And  gladden'd  Earth  shall,  through  her  wide  expanse. 
Bask  in  the  glories  of  this  countenance. 
Moore :  Lalla  Rookh  {The  Veiled  Prophet,  1, 179-82). 


40  ORAL  READING 

14.  I  should  shrink  from  the  task,  however,  did  I  not  know 
that,  ill  lliis,  your  purj)ose  is  to  honor  again  the  Common- 
wealth of  which  I  am  the  official  representative. 

John  D.  Long:  Memorial  Day  Address. 

15.  Many  more,  indeed,  than  may  be  mentioned  now  there 
are  of  these  real  benefactors  and  preservers  of  the  wayside 
characters,  times  and  customs  of  our  ever-shifting  history. 

Riley :  Dialect  in  Literature. 

16.  A  league  beygnd  the  wood, 
All  in  a  full-fair  manor  and  a  rich, 

His  towers,  where  that  day  a  feast  had  been 
Held  in  high  hall,  and  many  a  viand  left, 
And  many  a  costly  cate,  received  the  three. 

Tennyson  :   Gareth  and  Lynette. 

17.  Mr.  Pickwick  paused,  considered,  pulled  off  his  gloves  and 
put  them  in  his  hat :  took  two  or  three  short  runs,  baulked 
himself  as  often,  and  at  last  took  another  run,  and  went 
slowly  and  gravely  down  the  slide,  with  his  feet  about  a 
yard  and  a  -quarter  apart,  amidst  the  gratified  shouts  of  all 
the  spectators. 

"  Keep  the  pot  a^bilin',  sir!  "  said  Sam;  and  down  went 
Wardle  again,  and  then  Mr.  Pickwick,  and  then  Sam,  and 
then  Mr.  Winkle,  and  then  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer,  and  then  the 
fat  boy,  and  then  Mr.  Snodgrass,  following  closely  upon  each 
other's  heels,  and  running  after  each  other  with  as  much 
eagerness  as  if  all  their  future  prospects  in  life  depended  on 
their  expedition. 

The  sport  was  at  its  height,  the  sliding  was  the  quickest, 
the  laughter  at  the  loudest,  when  a  sharp  smart  crack  was 
heard.  There  was  a  quick  rush  towards  the  bank,  a  wild 
scream  from  the  ladies,  and  a  shout  from  Mr.  Tupman.  A 
large  mass  of  ice  disappeared ;  the  water  bubbled  up  over 
it ;  Mr.  Pickwick's  hat,  gloves,  and  handkerchief  were  float- 
ing on  the  surface ;  and  this  was  all  of  Mr.  Pickwick  that 
anybody  could  see. 

Dismay  and  anguish  were  depicted  on  every  countenance, 


GROUPING  4.1 

the  males  turned  pale,  and  the  females  fainted,  Mr.  Snod- 
grass  and  Mr.  Winkle  grasped  each  other  by  the  hand,  and 
gazed  at  the  spot  where  their  leader  had  gone  down,  with 
frenzied  eagerness:  while  Mr.  Tupman,  by  way  of  render- 
ing the  promptest  assistance,  and  at  the  same  time  convey- 
ing to  any  jjerson  who  might  be  within  hearing,  the  clearest 
possible  notion  of  the  catastrophe,  ran  off  across  the  coun- 
try at  his  topmost  speed,  screaming  "  Fire !  "  with  all  his 
might. 

It  was  at  this  moment,  when  old  Wardle  and  Sam  Wel- 
ler  were  approaching  the  hole  with  cautious  steps,  that  a 
face,  head,  and  shoulders,  emerged  from  beneath  the  water, 
and  disclosed  the  features  and  spectacles  of  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Do  you  feel  the  bottom  there,  old  fellow  ?  "  said  Wardle. 

"Yes,  certainly,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  wringing  the 
water  from  his  head  and  face,  and  gasping  for  breath.  "  I 
fell  upon  my  back.  I  could  n't  get  on  my  feet  at  first." 

After  a  vast  quantity  of  splashing,  and  cracking,  and  strug- 
gling, Mr.  Pickwick  was  at  length  fairly  extricated  from 
his  unpleasant  position,  and  once  more  stood  on  dry  land. 
Dickens  :  The  Pickwick  Papers. 

18.  Brutus.  What,  Lucius  !  ho  !  — 

I  cannot,  by  the  progress  of  the  stars. 
Give  guess  how  near  to  day.  —  Lucius,  I  say  !  — 
I  would  it  were  my  fault  to  sleep  so  soundly.  — 
When,  Lucius,  when?  Awake,  I  say  !  What,  Lucius! 

I/Ucius.  Call'd  you,  my  lord  ? 

Brutus.  Get  me  a  taper  in  my  study,  Lucius : 

When  it  is  lighted,  come  and  call  me  here. 

Lucius.  I  wiU,  my  lord. 

Shakespeare  :  Julius  Ccesar,  ii,  i, 

19.  Abou  Ben  Adhem  (may  his  tribe  increase !) 
Awoke  one  night  from  a  deep  dream  of  peace, 
And  saw,  within  the  moonlight  in  his  room, 
Making  it  rich,  and  like  a  lily  in  bloom, 

An  angel  writing  in  a  book  of  gold : 
Exceeding  peace  had  made  Ben  Adhem  bold, 


42  ORAL  READING 

And  to  the  presence  in  the  room  lie  said, 
"  AVhat  wiitest  thou  'i  "  The  vision  raised  its  head, 
And  with  a  look  made  of  all  sweet  accord, 
Answered,  "  The  names  of  those  who  love  the  Lord." 
"And  is  mine  one?"  said  Abou.  "Nay,  not  so," 
Replied  the  angel.  —  Abou  spoke  more  low, 
But  cheerily  still ;  and  said,  "  I  pray  thee,  then, 
Write  me  as  one  that  loves  his  fellow-men." 

The  angel  wrote  and  vanished.  The  next  night 

It  came  again,  with  a  gi-eat  wakening  light. 

And  showed  the  names  whom  love  of  God  had  blessed, 

And,  lo !  Ben  Adhem's  name  led  aU  the  rest ! 

Leigh  Hunt :  Ahou  Ben  Adhem. 

20.  If  the  stars  should  appear  ^g  night  in  a  thousand  years, 
how  would  men  believe  and  adore  ;  Jand  preserve  for  many 
generations  the  remembrance  of  the  city  of  God  which  had 
been  shown  I~7 But  every  night  come  out  these  envoys  of 
beauty,  and  light  the  universe  with  their  admonishing  smile. 

The  stars  awaken  a  certain  reverence,  because  though 
always  present,  they  are  inaccessible ;  but  all  natural  ol> 
jects  make  a  kindred  impression,  when  the  mind  is  open  to 
their  influence.  Nature  never  wears  a  mean  appearance. 
Neither  does  the  wisest  man  extort  her  secret,  and  lose  his 
curiosity  by  finding  out  all  her  perfection.  Nature  never 
became  a  toy  to  a  wise  spirit.  The  flowers,  the  animals, 
the  mountains,  reflected  the  wisdom  of  his  best  hour,  as 
much  as  they  delighted  the  simplicity  of  his  childhood. 

.^^     Emerson :  Nature. 

21.  It  was  the  attic  floor  of  the  highest  house  in  the  Wahn- 
gasse ;  and  might  truly  be  called  the  pinnacle  of  Weissnichtwo, 
for  it  rose  sheer  up  above  the  contiguous  roofs,  themselves 
rising  from  elevated  ground.  It  was  in  fact  the  speculum  or 
watch-tower  of  Teufelsdroch  ;  wherefrom,  sitting  at  ease,  he 
might  see  the  whole  life-circulation  of  that  considerable  city  ; 
the  streets  and  lanes  of  which,  with  all  their  doing  and  driv- 
ing, were  for  the  most  part  visible  there. 


GROUPING  43 

"  Ach,  mein  Lieber !  "  said  he  once,  at  midnight,  when 
we  had  returned  from  the  Coffee-house  in  rather  earnest 
talk,  "  it  is  a  true  sublimity  to  dwell  here.  Oh,  under  that 
hideous  coverlet  of  vapours,  and  putrefactions,  and  unim- 
aginable gases,  what  a  Fermentiug-vat  lies  simmering  and 
hid !  The  joyful  and  the  sorrowful  are  there  ;  men  are  dying 
there,  men  are  being  born  ;  men  are  praying,  —  on  the  other 
side  of  a  brick  partition,  men  are  cursing  ;  and  around  them 
all  is  the  vast,  void  Night.  The  proud  Grandee  still  lingers 
in  his  perfumed  saloons,  or  reposes  within  damask  curtains  ; 
Wretchedness  cowers  into  truckle-beds,  or  shivers  hunger- 
stricken  into  its  lair  of  straw :  while  Councillors  of  State  sit 
plotting,  and  playing  their  high  chess-game,  whereof  the 
pawns  are  Men.  The  Lover  whispers  his  mistress  that  the 
coach  is  ready  ;  and  she,  full  of  hope  and  fear,  glides  down, 
to  fly  with  him  over  the  borders :  the  Thief,  still  more  si- 
lently, sets-to  his  picklocks  and  crowbars,  or  lurks  in  wait 
till  the  watchmen  first  snore  in  their  boxes.  Gay  mansions, 
with  supper-rooms  and  dancing-rooms,  are  full  of  light  and 
music  and  high-swelling  hearts ;  but,  in  the  Condemned 
Cells,  the  pulse  of  life  beats  tremulous  and  faint,  and  blood- 
shot eyes  look  out  through  the  darkness,  which  is  around 
and  within,  for  the  light  of  a  stern  last  morning.  Six  men 
are  to  be  hanged  on  the  morrow :  comes  no  hammering 
from  the  Raben stein  ?  —  their  gallows  must  even  now  be 
a-building.  Upwards  of  five-hundred-thousand  two-legged 
animals  without  feathers  lie  round  us,  in  horizontal  posi- 
tions; their  heads  all  in  nightcaps,  and  full  of  the  foolishest 
dreams.  Riot  cries  aloud,  and  staggers  and  swaggers  in  his 
rank  dens  of  shame ;  and  the  Mother,  with  streaming  hair, 
kneeLs  over  her  pallid  dying  infant,  whose  cracked  lips  oidy 
her  tears  now  moisten.  —  All  these  heaped  and  huddled  to- 
gether, with  nothing  but  a  little  carpentry  and  masonry  be- 
tween them ;  —  crammed  in,  like  salt  fish  in  their  barrel ;  — 
or  weltering,  shall  I  say,  like  an  Egyptian  pitcher  of  tamed 
vipers,  each  struggling  to  get  its  head  above  the  others : 
8uch  work  goes  on  under  that  smoke-counter-pane !  —  But  I, 
main  Werther,  sit  above  it  all ;  I  am  alone  with  the  Stars-" 
Carlyle :  Sartor  Resartus,  Book  i,  chap.  ui. 


44  ORAL  RE.U)ING 

22.  It  is  hard  without  lonj^  and  loving  study  to  realize  the 
magnitude  ot"  the  work  done  on  those  mountains  during  the 
last  glacial  period  hy  glaciers,  which  are  only  streams  of 
closely  compacted  snow-crystals.  Careful  study  of  the  phe- 
nomena presented  goes  to  show  tliat  the  pre-glacial  condition 
of  the  range  was  comparatively  simple  :  one  vast  wave  of 
stone  in  which  a  thousand  mountains,  domes,  canons,  ridges, 
etc.,  lay  concealed.  And  in  the  development  of  these  Nature 
chose  for  a  tool  not  the  earthquake  or  lightning  to  rend  and 
split  asunder,  not  the  stormj'^  torrent  or  eroding  rain,  but 
the  tender  snow-flowers  noiselessly  falling  through  unnum- 
bered centuries,  the  offspring  of  the  sun  and  the  sea.  La- 
boring harmoniously  in  united  strength  they  crushed  and 
ground  and  wore  away  the  rocks  in  their  march,  making 
vast  beds  of  soil,  and  at  the  same  time  developed  and  fash- 
ioned the  landscapes  into  the  delightful  variety  of  hill  and 
dale  and  lordly  mountain  tliat  mortals  call  beauty.  Perhai)S 
more  than  a  mile  in  average  depth  has  the  range  been 
thus  degraded  during  the  last  glacial  period,  —  a  quantity 
of  mechanical  work  almost  inconceivably  great.  .  .  .  The 
great  granite  domes  a  mile  high,  the  canons  as  deep,  the 
noble  peaks,  the  Yosemite  valleys,  these,  and  indeed  nearly 
all  other  features  of  the  Sierra  scenery,  are  glacier  monu- 
ments. 

Contemplating  the  works  of  tliese  flowers  of  the  sky,  one 
may  easily  fancy  them  endowed  with  life  :  messengers  sent 
down  to  work  in  the  mountain  mines  on  errands  of  divine 
love.  Silently  flying  through  the  darkened  air,  swirling, 
glinting,  to  their  appointed  places,  they  seem  to  have  taken 
counsel  together,  saying,  "  Come,  we  are  feeble ;  let  us  help 
one  another.  We  are  many,  and  together  we  will  be  strong. 
Marching  in  close,  deep  ranks,  let  us  roll  away  the  stones 
from  these  mountain  sepulchres,  and  set  the  landscapes  free. 
Let  us  uncover  these  clustering  domes.  Here  let  us  carve  a 
lake  basin  ;  there,  a  Yosemite  valley ;  here,  a  channel  for 
a  river  with  fluted  steps  and  brows  for  the  plunge  of  song- 
ful cataiacts.  Yonder  let  us  spread  broad  sheets  of  soil,  that 
man  and  beasts  may  be  fed ;  and  here  pile  trains  of  boul- 
ders for  pines  and  giant  Sequoias.   Here  make  ground  foi-  a 


GROUPING  45 

meadow;  there,  for  a  garden  and  grove,  making  it  smooth 
and  fine  for  small  daisies  and  violets  and  beds  of  heathy 
bryanthus,  spicing  it  well  with  crystals,  garnet,  feldsj^ar, 
and  zircon."  Thus  and  so  on  it  lias  oftentimes  seemed  to  me 
Bang  and  planned  and  labored  the  hearty  snow-flower  cru- 
saders ;  and  nothing  I  can  write  can  possibly  exaggerate 
the  grandeur  and  beauty  of  their  work.  Like  morning  mist 
they  have  vanished  in  sunshine,  all  save  the  few  small  com- 
panies that  still  linger  on  the  coolest  mountain-sides,  and, 
as  residual  glaciers,  are  still  busily  at  work  completing  the 
last  of  the  lake  basins,  the  last  beds  of  soil,  and  the  sculp- 
ture of  some  of  the  highest  peaks. 

John  Muir :  The  Mountains  of  California,  chap.  l.^ 

23.  Much  have  I  travell'd  in  the  realms  of  gold. 

And  many  goodly  states  and  kingdoms  seen ; 

Round  many  western  islands  have  I  been 
Which  bards  in  fealty  to  Apollo  hold. 
Oft  of  one  wide  expanse  had  I  been  told 

That  deep-brow'd  Homer  ruled  as  his  demesne ; 

Yet  did  I  never  breathe  its  pure  serene 
Till  I  heard  Chapman  speak  out  loud  and  bold : 
Then  felt  I  like  some  watcher  of  the  skies 

When  a  new  planet  swims  into  his  ken ; 
Or  like  stout  Cortez  when  with  eagle  eyes 

He  star'd  at  the  Pacific  —  and  all  his  men 
Look'd  at  each  other  with  a  wild  surmise  — 

Silent,  upon  a  peak  in  Darien. 

Keats:  On  first  looking  into  Chapman'' s  Homer. 

24.  Simple  and  brave,  his  faith  awoke 

Ploughmen  to  struggle  with  their  fate ; 
Armies  won  battles  when  he  spoke. 
And  out  of  Chaos  sprang  tlie  State. 

Robert  Bridges :  Washington. 

25.  Suppose  it  were  perfectly  certain  that  the  life  and  fortune 
of  every  one  of  us  would,  one  day  or  other,  depend  upon  his 

^  Copyright,  1H04,  by  The  Century  Company.  Used  with  the  kind  permis- 
sion of  the  publishers. 


46  ORAL  READING 

winninp;  or  losin£»  a  game  of  chess.  Don't  you  think  that 
we  shuulil  all  consider  it  to  be  a  primary  duty  to  learn  at 
least  the  names  and  the  moves  of  the  pieces  ?  Do  you  not 
think  that  we  should  look  with  a  disapprobation  amount- 
ing to  scorn,  upon  the  father  who  allowed  his  son,  or  the 
state  whicli  allowed  its  members,  to  grow  up  without  know- 
ing a  pawn  from  a  knight  ? 

Yet  it  is  a  very  ])laiii  and  elementary  truth,  that  the  life, 
the  fortune,  and  tlie  happiness  of  every  one  of  us,  and, 
more  or  less,  of  those  who  are  connected  with  us,  do  depend 
upon  our  knowing  something  of  the  rules  of  a  game  infi- 
nitely more  difficult  and  complicated  than  chess.  It  is  a 
game  which  has  been  played  for  untold  ages,  every  man 
and  woman  of  us  being  one  of  the  two  players  in  a  game  of 
his  or  her  own.  The  chess-board  is  the  world,  the  pieces  are 
the  phenomena  of  the  universe,  the  rules  of  the  game  are 
what  we  call  the  laws  of  Nature.  The  player  on  the  other 
side  is  hidden  from  us.  We  know  that  his  play  is  always 
fair,  just,  and  patient.  But  also  we  know,  to  our  cost,  that 
he  never  overlooks  a  mistake,  or  makes  the  smallest  allow- 
ance for  ignorance.  To  the  man  who  plays  well,  the  highest 
stakes  are  paid,  with  that  sort  of  overflowing  generosity 
with  which  the  strong  shows  delight  in  strength.  And  one 
who  plays  ill  is  checkmated  —  without  haste,  but  without 
remorse.  .  .  . 

Well,  what  I  mean  by  Education  is  learning  the  rules  of 
this  mighty  game.  In  other  words,  education  is  the  instruc- 
tion of  the  intellect  in  the  laws  of  Nature,  under  which 
name  I  include  not  merely  things  and  their  forces,  but  men 
and  their  ways ;  and  the  fashioning  of  the  affections  and  of 
the  will  into  an  earnest  and  loving  desire  to  move  in  har- 
mony with  those  laws. 

Huxley :  A  Liberal  Education. 

2.  For  general  reading 

26.  The  royal  feast  was  done  ;  the  King 

Sought  some  new  sport  to  banish  care, 
And  to  his  jester  cried  :  ''  Sir  Fool, 

Kneel  now,  and  make  for  us  a  prayer ! " 


GROUPING  47 

The  jester  doffed  his  cap  and  bells, 
And  stood  the  mocking  court  before ; 

They  could  not  see  the  bitter  smile 
Behind  the  painted  grin  he  wore. 

He  bowed  his  head,  and  bent  his  knee 

Upon  the  monarch's  silken  stool-, 
His  pleading  voice  arose  :  "  O  Lord, 

Be  merciful  to  me,  a  fool ! 

*'  No  pity,  Lord,  could  change  the  heart 

From  red  with  wrong  to  white  as  wool ; 
The  rod  must  heal  the  sin  ;  but.  Lord, 
Be  merciful  to  me,  a  fool ! 

*'  'T  is  not  by  guilt  the  onward  sweep 

Of  truth  and  right,  O  Lord,  we  stay ; 
'T  is  by  our  follies  that  so  long 

We  hold  the  earth  from  heaven  away. 

*'  These  clumsy  feet,  still  in  the  mire. 
Go  crushing  blossoms  without  end  ; 
These  hard,  well-meaning  hands  we  thrust 
Among  the  heart-strings  of  a  friend. 

**  The  ill-timed  truth  we  might  have  kept  — 

Who  knows  how  sharp  it  pierced  and  stung  ? 
The  word  we  had  not  sense  to  say  — 
Who  knows  how  grandly  it  had  rung  ? 

"  Our  faults  no  tenderness  should  ask, 

The  chastening  stripes  must  cleanse  them  all; 
But  for  our  blunders  —  oh,  in  shame 
Before  the  eyes  of  heaven  we  fall. 

"  Earth  bears  no  balsam  for  mistakes  ; 

IMen  crown  the  knave,  and  scourge  the  tool 
That  did  his  will ;  but  Thou,  0  Lord, 
Be  merciful  to  me,  a  fool !  " 


48  ORAL  READING 

The  room  was  hushed  ;  in  silence  rose 
The  Kint:^,  ami  soii<j;ht  his  gardens  cool, 

And  walked  apart,  and  murmured  low, 
"  Be  merciful  to  me,  a  fool !  " 

Edward  Rowland  Sill :   The  FooVs  Prayer. 

27.  Toward  the  end  of  September,  when  school-time  was  draw- 
ing near  and  the  nights  were  already  black,  we  would  begin 
to  sally  from  our  respective  villas,  each  equipped  with  a  tin 
bull's-eye  lantern.  The  thing  was  so  well  known  that  it  had 
worn  a  rut  in  the  commerce  of  Great  Britain  ;  and  the  gro- 
cers, about  the  due  time,  began  to  garnish  their  windows 
with  our  particular  brand  of  luminary.  We  wore  them 
buckled  to  the  waist  upon  a  cricket  belt,  and  over  them, 
such  was  the  rigour  of  the  game,  a  buttoned  top-coat.  They 
smelled  noisomely  of  blistered  tin ;  they  never  burned 
aright,  though  they  would  always  burn  our  fingers ;  their 
use  was  naught ;  the  pleasure  of  them  merely  fanciful ;  and 
yet  a  boy  with  a  bull's-eye  under  his  top-coat  asked  for 
nothing  more.  The  fishermen  used  lanterns  about  their 
boats,  and  it  was  from  them,  I  suppose,  that  we  had  got  the 
hint ;  but  theirs  were  not  bull's-eyes,  nor  did  we  ever  play 
at  being  fishermen.  The  police  carried  them  at  their  belts, 
and  we  had  plainly  copied  them  in  that ;  yet  we  did  not 
pretend  to  be  policemen.  Burglars,  indeed,  we  may  have 
had  some  haunting  thoughts  of  ;  and  we  had  certainly  an 
eye  to  past  ages  when  lanterns  were  more  common,  and  to 
certain  stoi'y-books  in  which  we  had  found  them  to  figure 
very  largely.  But  take  it  for  all  in  all,  the  pleasure  of  the 
thing  was  substantive  ;  and  to  be  a  boy  with  a  bull's-eye  under 
his  toj>coat  was  good  enough  for  us. 

When  two  of  these  asses  met,  there  would  be  an  anxious 
"  Have  you  got  your  lantern  ?  "  and  a  gratified  "  Yes  !  " 
That  was  the  shibboleth,  and  very  needful  too ;  for,  as  \t 
was  the  rule  to  keep  our  glory  contained,  none  could  rec- 
ognise a  lantern-bearer,  unless  (like  the  pole-cat)  by  the 
smell.  Four  or  five  would  sometimes  climb  into  tlie  belly  of 
a  ten-man  lugger,  with  nothing  but  the  thwarts  above  them 
—  for  the  cabin  was  usually  locked,  or  choose  out  some  hoi- 


GROUPING  49 

low  of  the  links  where  the  wind  might  whistle  overhead. 
There  the  coats  would  be  unbuttoned  and  the  bull's-eyes 
discovered ;  and  in  the  chequering  glimmer,  under  the  huge 
windy  hall  of  the  night,  and  cheered  by  a  rich  steam  of 
toasting  tinware,  these  fortunate  young  gentlemen  would 
crouch  together  in  the  cold  sand  of  the  links  or  on  the  scaly 
bilges  of  the  fishing-boat,  and  delight  themselves  with  ina{)- 
propriate  talk.  Woe  is  me  that  I  may  not  give  some  sjjeci- 
mens — some  of  their  foresights  of  life,  or  deep  inquiries 
into  the  rudiments  of  man  and  nature,  these  were  so  fiery 
and  so  innocent,  they  were  so  richly  silly,  so  romantically 
young.  But  the  talk,  at  any  rate,  was  but  a  condiment ;  and 
these  gatherings  themselves  only  accidents  in  the  career  of 
the  lantern-bearer.  The  essence  of  this  bliss  was  to  walk  by 
yourself  in  the  black  night ;  the  slide  shut,  the  top-coat  but- 
toned ;  not  a  ray  escaping,  whether  to  conduct  your  foot- 
steps or  to  make  your  glory  public :  a  mere  pillar  of  dark- 
ness in  the  dark ;  and  all  the  while,  deep  down  in  the 
privacy  of  your  fool's  heart,  to  know  you  had  a  bull's-eye 
at  your  belt,  and  to  exult  and  sing  over  the  knowledge. 

n 
It  is  said  that  a  poet  has  died  young  in  the  breast  of  the 
most  stolid.  It  may  be  contended,  rather,  that  this  (some- 
what minor)  bard  in  almost  every  case  survives,  and  is  the 
spice  of  life  to  his  possessor.  Justice  is  not  done  to  the  ver- 
satility and  the  unplumbed  childishness  of  man's  imagina- 
tion. His  life  from  without  may  seem  but  a  rude  mound  of 
mud  ;  there  will  be  some  golden  chamber  at  the  heart  of  it, 
in  which  he  dwells  delighted  ;  and  for  as  dark  as  his  patli- 
way  seems  to  the  observer,  he  will  have  some  kind  of  » 
bull's-eye  at  his  belt. 

And  so  with  others,  who  do  not  live  by  bread  alone,  but  by 
some  cherished  and  perhaps  fantastic  pleasure ;  who  are 
meat  salesmen  to  the  external  eye,  and  possibly  to  them- 
selves are  Shakespeares,  Napoleons,  or  Beethovens ;  who 
have  not  one  virtue  to  rub  against  another  in  the  field  of 
active  life,  and  yet  perhaps,  in  the  life  of  contemplation,  sit 


•50  OR.VL  READING 

with  the  saints.  We  see  them  on  the  street,  and  we  can 
count  their  buttons ;  but  Heaven  knows  in  what  tliey  pride 
themselves !  Heaven  knows  where  they  have  set  their 
treasure ! 

There  is  one  fable  that  touches  very  near  the  quick  of 
life :  the  fable  of  the  monk  who  passed  into  the  woods, 
heard  a  bird  break  into  song,  hearkened  for  a  trill  or  two, 
and  found  himself  on  his  return  a  stranger  at  his  convent 
gates ;  for  he  had  been  absent  fifty  years,  and  of  all  his 
comrades  there  survived  but  one  to  recognise  him.  It  is  not 
only  in  the  woods  that  this  enchanter  carols,  though  per- 
haps he  is  native  there.  He  sings  in  the  most  doleful  places. 
The  miser  hears  him  and  chuckles,  and  the  days  are  mo- 
ments. With  no  more  apparatus  than  an  ill-smelling  lantern 
I  have  evoked  him  on  the  naked  links.  All  life  that  is  not 
merely  mechanical  is  spun  out  of  two  strands :  seeking  for 
that  bird  and  hearing  him. 

Stevenson  :  The  Lantern-Bearers} 

*  Copyright,  1905,  by  Charles  Scribner'a  Sons.  Used  with  the  kind  permis- 
sion of  the  publishers. 


CHAPTER  III 

PITCH   VARIATION 

9.  The  cause  of  pitch  variation 
All  normal  speech  is  characterized  by  variety  in  pitch 
and  range  of  the  voice.  If  you  listen  closely  to  one  in  ear- 
nest conversation,  you  will  observe  that  the  numerous  tone 
changes  do  not  come  by  chance,  although  the  speaker  may 
not  be  at  all  conscious  of  what  the  voice  is  doing,  but  that 
they  are  determined  by  the  thought  and  the  intention  of 
the  speaker.  Every  departure  from  monotone  is  significant 
and  indicates  the  particular  meaning  the  speaker  attaches 
to  the  words  he  utters,  and  every  change  in  the  melody  of 
a  phrase  or  sentence  changes  its  meaning  to  the  listener. 
Obviously,  then,  a  reader  must  make  sure  that  he  under- 
stands the  author's  thought  before  he  ventures  to  speak 
his  words.  Note  how  the  following  portion  of  a  line  from 
Othello,  as  read  by  a  student,  was  perverted  from  its  seri- 
ous import  to  a  meaning  of  ludicrous  implication.  The  true 
sense  may  be  expressed  something  like  this  :  — 

s 
t 
'twas        r 
swore,         faith,  a 

She  in  n 

g 
e. 

But  the  line  was  read  thus :  — 

s  't 

w  faith,       w 

She  o  In  a 

r  s  strange. 

e(!). 


52  ORAL  11E.U)ING 

10.  Inflection  and  change  of  lyitch 
The  two  factors  of  pitch  variation  by  which  words  are 
made  to  express  accurately  the  speaker's  purpose  are  in- 
flection (vocal  glides),  and  change  of  pitch  (vocal  leaps). 
The  rise  or  fall  of  the  voice  during  the  utterance  of  a  word 
is  called  inflection  ;  the  leap  of  the  voice  from  one  key  to 
another  during  intervals  of  silence  between  words,  phrases, 
and  sentences  is  called  change  of  pitch. ^  These  modulations 
supplement  each  other,  and  are  firmly  allied  in  showing  the 
relation  of  words,  phrases,  and  sentences.  Speaking  gener- 
ally, the  upward  trend  of  the  voice,  whether  limited  to  the 
glide  on  a  particular  word  or  to  the  melody  of  the  whole 
j^hrase,  indicates  incompleteness  of  thought;  the  falling, 
completeness.  Both  are  illustrated  in  the  following  sen- 
tence ;  — 

k 
shall 
ye  n 

s 
t  o 

i 
u  w 

r 
f 
their 
By  them. 

1  If  there  were  no  consonants  in  our  language  which  interrupt  vocalization 
in  the  utterance  of  phrases,  the  melody  of  phrases  would  be  made  up 
largely  of  glides  merging  into  each  other.  (See  paragraph  3,  page  32.)  Within 
the  phrase  there  would  be  few  leaps  of  the  voice  other  than  those  that  might 
occur  for  emphasis.  The  phrase  "We  all  know  how  well  we  are  "  may  be 
spoken  with  a  melody  made  up  entirely  of  glides  of  varying  length  and  direc- 
tion. Such  combinations  rarely  occur,  however.  The  flow  of  the  voice  is  often 
broken  by  consonants,  and  the  range  between  syllables  and  words  beginning 
or  ending  with  stop-conaonants  is  effected  by  vocal  leaps,  thus  :  — 

fog  *''^*^^ 

.  den 

^^    ,;  tal.     The  '«  *«-*^*y- 


PITCH  VARIATION  63 

II.  Word  values  within  the  phrase 
The  particular  meaning  conveyed  by  any  group  of  spoken 
words  is  determined  largely  by  inflection  and  change  of 
pitch.i  By  means  of  these,  attention  is  directed  to  signifi- 
cant woi-ds,  which  are  lifted  into  prominence,  while  those 
of  less  importance  are  subordinated,  as  in  the  illustration 
above.  Inflection  and  change  of  pitch  are  therefore  impor- 
tant means  of  emphasis. 

I.  Emphasis  by  inflection.  While  every  word  in  expres- 
sive speech  has  some-  inflectional  variation,  words  in  which 
the  thought  is  most  strongly  centered  are  set  out  by  inflec- 
tions of  greater  range  and  duration,  the  range  and  duration 
varying  according  to  the  purpose  of  the  speaker  and  the 
importance  of  the  thought.  Suppose,  for  example,  that  some 
circumstance  has  arisen  in  which  one  is  unable  to  decide  at 
once  upon  a  course  of  action  or  to  state  a  definite  opinion. 
The  perplexity  of  the  mind  might  be  expressed  by  some 
such  inflectional  emphasis  as  this :  — 

w 
h 

know         a 
not  t 

do  to 

I  say. 

But  if  one  is  being  urged  unexpectedly  to  speak  and  can- 
not think  of  anything  to  say,  the  sentence  might  be  spoken 
thus :  — 

s 

to        a 
what 
know  y. 

not 
do 
I 

1  How  would  you  speak  tlie  sentence  "There  is  honor  among  thieves"  so 


54  OR:VL  READING 

2.  Emphasis  by  change  of  pitch.  Significant  words  are 
often  uKule  prominent  by  change  of  pitch  before  or  after 
thoni.  Note  how  the  word  "  now  "  is  made  emphatic  by  the 
upward  leap  of  the  voice  in  the  command :  — 


that         o 
do 

must  w ! 

You 

Often  the  change  of  pitch  comes  between  the  unaccented 
and  accented  syllables  of  the  emphatic  word,  as  in 

c 

r 
e 
dis  t 

own  i 

your  o 

"  Let  n 

be 

your 

tutor." 

3.  Change  of  pitch  essential  to  proper  inflectional  em- 
phasis. Change  of  pitch  itself  is  not  only  a  means  of  em- 
phasis, but  it  often  helps  to  make  inflectional  emphasis  possi- 
ble by  placing  the  important  words  on  such  a  key  that  the 
emphatic  rise  and  fall  of  the  voice  shall  be  within  its  easy 
range.  In  the  following  sentence  the  words  "  animal," 
"  unique,"  and  "  striking  "  receive  strong  rising  inflections, 
yet  it  would  be  vocally  impossible  to  give  each  of  these 
words  au  equal  inflectional  range  were  it  not  for  the  down- 
ward leaps  of  the  voice  througliout  the  sentence,  by  which 
its  melody  is  given  balance  and  proportion. 

a3  to  justify  the  reply,  "  Nonsense  !  thieves  are  just  as  bad  as  other  people  "  ? 
Repeat  the  sentence  in  a  way  to  imply  that  eveu  among  thieves  there  is  some 
seme  of  honor. 


PITCH  VAKIATION  55 

P 

ap-    e 

e         g 
1  u         n  a 

a  <1         i 

m  i         k  r 

i  n         i 

n  u  r  a 

a         most  t 

"Old       an         a  s  n 

was       of  and 

Jack  c 


12.  Phrase  and  clause  relations 
As  the  pitch  variation  within  the  word-group  helps  to 
convey  the  exact  meaning  the  speaker  intends,  so  it  reveals 
the  relation  between  the  ideas  of  the  various  phrases  and 
clauses  within  the  sentence. 

I.  Completeness  of  thought.  Notwithstanding  an  old 
and  arbitrary  rule  that  the  voice  should  rise  at  a  comma 
and  fall  at  a  period,  we  find  that  in  normal  speech  the 
voice  often  falls  at  a  comma,  or  whenever,  comma  or  no 
comma,  the  attention  is  momentarily  centered  on  a  phrase, 
the  thought  of  which  is  clear  and  complete  in  itself  and  of 
sufficient  importance  to  stand  as  an  independent  affirma- 
tion. Then  one  virtually  "  makes  periods  in  the  midst  of 
sentences."  Take,  for  example,  the  following  sentence  from 
Lincoln's  Second  Inaugural  Address.  Beginning  with  the 
clause,  "  let  us  finish  the  work  we  are  in,"  it,  and  each  sub- 
sequent clause,  states  a  thought  complete  in  itself,  and,  in 
reading,  each  may  be  given  the  falling  inflection  of  com- 
pleteness, as  indicated  in  the  illustration  :  — 


66  ORAL  READING 

With  malice  toward  none,  with  charity  for  all,  with  finnne88 
in  tlie  right  as  (jlod  gives  us  to  see   the  right,  let  us  iinish  the 

work  we  are  in,  to  hind  up  the  nation's  wounds,  to  care  for  him 

who  shall  have  borne  the  battle,  and  for  his  widow  and  his  or- 
phans, to  do  all  which  may  achieve  and  cherish  a  just  and  lasting 

Ijeace  among  ourselves  and  with  all  nations.* 

The  following  sentences  contain  phrases  which  may  be 
treated  as  complete  in  themselves  :  — 

There  is  the  constitution,  there  are  the  laws,  there  is  the  gov- 
ernment. 

We  would  speak  first  of  the  Puritans,  the  most  remarkable 
body  of  men  perhaps  which  the  world  has  ever  produced. 

2.  Incompleteness  of  thought.  When  the  thought  is 
but  partially  stated  in  any  phrase,  and,  in  consequence, 
depends  for  its  completion  on  others  to  follow^  this  depend- 
ence is  shown  by  the  rising  inflection  and  the  general  up- 
ward trend  of  the  voice.  Attention  is  thus  directed  to 
what  follows. 

I  find  where  I  thought  myself  poor  there  I  was  most  rich. 

The  plateau  being  somewhat  tilted  toward  the  west,  this  spot 

on  which  we  had  paused  commanded  a  wide  prospect  on  either 
hand. 

a.  In  expressions  of  doubt,  entreaty,  contradiction  or 
opposition,  the  trend  of  the  voice  is  often  upward,  for  the 
reason  that  in  such  states  of  mind  the  thought  is  virtually 

1  The  inflections  indicated  in  this  sentence  are  not  to  be  understood  as 
representing  the  only  ones  that  may  be  used  in  reading  the  lines.  They  are 
intended  merely  to  illustrate  one  way  of  expressinsr  the  thoucfht.  The  first 
portion  of  the  quotation  has  not  been  marked.  There  is  good  grround  for  the 
use  of  either  rising  or  falling  inflection  in  rendering  the  opening  phrases. 


PITCH  VARIATION  57 

incomplete.      Further     information     is    desired    or    ex- 
pected. 

I  thought  I  left  my  hat  here.     (Possibly  I  did  n't.  But  where 

,  -is  it  ?) 

I  do  not  understand  this.  (Will  you  explain  ?) 

Don't  leave  me  here  alone.         (Will  you  ?) 

I  did  not  say  that.  (Explain  or  retract.) 

6,  Direct  questions  frequently  take  the  rising  inflection 
of  incomplete  thought.  Attention  is  directed  to  the  answer.^ 

Is  this  your  book  ? 

Are  you  going  to-morrow  ? 

13.  Subordination 

Change  of  pitch  is  an  important  tactor  in  showing  the 
relation  of  phrases  to  each  other.  In  complex  sentences  in 
which  central  ideas  are  limited,  qualified,  or  explained  by 
subordinate  phrases  or  clauses,  these  modifying  word-groups 
are  often  spoken  on  a  lower  key  and  are  passed  over  more 
quickly  than  are  the  clauses  they  support,  but  whether 
their  pitch  is  lower  or  higher,  their  time  of  utterance  faster 
or  slower,  depend  on  their  importance  and  the  judgment 
and  purpose  of  the  speaker.  Sometimes  a  qualifying  phrase 
may  be  given  more  prominence  than  any  other  in  the  sen- 

'^  Students  are  often  led  into  error  by  assoming:  that  an  interrog'ation  point 
always  demands  the  rising  inflection.  In  many  instances  it  does  not.  For  ex- 
ample, when  the  question  is  uttered  as  a  command,  as  an  exclamation,  or 
as  an  assertion  of  an  assumed  fact,  the  falling  inflection  is  natural. 

Where  are  you  going  ?  (You  are    evidently  going   somewhere. 

Tell  me.) 
Why  did  you  do  this  ?  (It  is  done,  but  not  according  to  instruo* 

tions.    Explain.) 
Is  n't  this  a  beautiful  day  ?  (No  one  would  deny  it.) 

How  did  you  enjoy  the  game  ?      (Of  course  you  enjoyed  it.) 


58  ORAL  READING 

tence,  as,  for  example,  in  the  last  of  the  following  quota- 
tions :  — 

"  Shakespeare,  V  ought  not  to  have  made  Othello  hlack." 

says  Rhymer, 
*'  It  was  V  legitimate  political  warfare." 
as  the  world  goes 

however  strong  they  may  be 
"  Monopolies  and  corporations  A  cannot  enslave  such  a  people." 

It  often  happens  that  the  principal  idea  ox*  clause  is  in- 
terrupted by  a  modifying  subordinate  phrase.  In  such 
cases  the  relation  of  the  parts  of  the  broken  phrase  may 
be  made  clear  by  speaking  them  with  the  same  inflections 
and  changes  of  pitch  as  would  obtain  were  there  no  inter- 
ruption of  the  thought.  To  illustrate  :  Read  the  following 
sentence,  omitting  the  phrase  "  in  his  saint-like  beauty," 
and  note  the  inflections  used  in  speaking  "  fell "  and 
"  asleep."  Then  read  the  line  entire,  preserving  the  same 
inflections  as  in  the  former  reading.  Observe  that  "  He  " 

did  not  '  fall,'  but  that  "  He  fell  asleep." 

He  fell,  in  his  saint-like  beauty, 
Asleep  by  the  gates  of  light. 

Alice  Gary :  Pictures  of  Memory. 

Here  are  some  other  illustrations :  — 

Well,  we,  in  our  poetical  application  of  this,  say,  that  money 
does  n't  mean  money. 

Ruskin  :   Use  and  Abuse  of  Wealth. 

Most  noble  lord,  Sir  Lancelot  of  the  Lake, 

I,  sometimes  call'd  the  Maid  of  Astolat, 

Come,  for  you  left  me  taking  no  farewell, 

Hither,  to  take  my  last  farewell  of  you. 

Tennyson  :  Lancelot  and  Elaine. 


PITCH  VARIATION  59 

Cromwell  was  evidently  laying,  though  in  an  irregular  manner, 
the  foundation  of  an  admirable  system. 

Macaulay. 

That  art  itself  is  nature,  Shakespeare,  who 
Derived  his  sovereign  art  from  nature,  knew. 

14.    Contrast  and  Comparison 

When  two  or  more  ideas  are  compared  or  contrasted,  the 
inflections  and  changes  of  pitch  are  determined  by  the  prin- 
ciple governing  completeness  or  incompleteness  of  thought. 
(See  section  12,  pages  55-56.)  Antithetic  phrases  may  be 
roughly  divided  into  two  classes,  namely:  — 

1.  Those  in  which  any  member  of  the  antithesis  is  con. 
ditional  and  dependent  upon  another  for  completeness  and 
clearness  of  meaning.  In  these  the  trend  of  the  voice  is 
naturally  upward. 

If  you  ride,  I  must  walk. 

"  What  he  hath  lost  noble  Macbeth  hath  won." 

"  Look  here,  upon  this  picture,  and  on  this." 

2.  Those  in  which  any  member  of  the  antithesis  is  com- 
plete in  itself,  or  is  of  sufficient  importance  to  justify  the 
falling  inflection. 

It  is  a  matter  of  measures,  not  men. 

The  prodigal  robs  his  heir ;  the  miser  robs  himself. 

Antithetic  ideas  are  often  centered  in  one  word.  In 
such  instances  a  little  scrutiny  will  show  that  the  word  im- 
plies two  ideas  which  may  be  expanded   into  antithetic 


60  OR.VL  READING 

phrases.  For  example,  the  statement  "  He  did  it  somehov),^* 
may  ho  stated  in  full  thus :  "  lie  did  the  thing;  but  does  he 
know  how  he  did  it?"  If  the  latter  sentence  is  read  with 
due  emphasis  on  the  thought  of  both  its  parts,  it  will  be  ob- 
served that  the  voice  has  a  tendency  downward  on  the  first 
phrase  and  upward  on  the  last.  So,  also,  the  complex 
thought  carried  in  "  somehow  "  is  expressed  vocally  by  the 
falling  and  rising  inflection  in  speaking  the  word,  thus :  — 

s  w. 

o        o  h  w. 

He  did  it      m  h  I  do  not  know    o 

e 

The  turn  of  the  voice,  or  circumflex  inflection,  by  which 
antithetic  ideas  are  expressed,  indicates  a  turn  in  the  thought. 
It  is  especially  marked  in  equivocal  speech,  or  when  the 
mind  wavers  between  two  opinions.^ 

s 
not    u  t ; 

am  r        i  do        k 

I  el       not  n  w. 

of  o 

Rules  have  been  given  for  the  management  of  the  voice 
in  rendering  antitheses,  but,  here  again,  the  secret  of  natural 
speech  is  found,  not  in  rules,  but  in  thinking.  When  the 
mind  is  uncertain,  the  voice  will  make  it  evident;  when 
thought  is  definite  and  certain,  speech  will  also  be  certain. 

"  I  know"  implies  no  doubt. 

^  Circumflexes  are  common  in  everyday  life,  but  usually  indicate  abnormal 
mental  attitudes,  lack  of  difoiity  in  character,  or  are  merely  colloquial  with- 
out earnestness.  Inflection  should  be  as  straight  and  direct  as  possible.  Crooked 
inflections  imply  undig-nified  conditions,  lack  of  sincerity,  playful,  sarcastic, 
or  negative  attitudes  of  mind  towards  truth  or  towards  persons.  They  are 
sometimes  necessary,  but  should  be  rare  in  dignifled  discourse.  (S.  S.  Curry: 
Foundations  of  Expression,  p.  5G.) 


PITCH  VARIATION  61 

15.  Monotony 

The  most  common  fault  in  reading  aloud  and  formal 
speaking  is  monotony.  Thoughtlessness  and  monotony  ^a 
together.  The  most  effective  remedy  for  the  fault  is  clear 
thinking.  Take,  for  example,  the  first  line  from  Julius 
Ccesar,  spoken  by  an  officer,  Flavius,  to  a  group  of  citizens 
gathered  in  a  street  in  E-ome.  The  reader,  whose  mind  and 
imagination  are  active,  will  be  apt  to  speak  the  line  some- 
what as  follows :  — 

\  \  /./\  //\ 

Hence  I  home,  you  idle  creatures,  get  you  home. 

But  the  thoughtless  reader,  indifferent  to  situation,  citizens, 
officer,  and  what  he  says,  will  utter  the  words  in  a  monotone, 
thus :  — 


Hence  —  home  —  you  —  idle  —  creatures  —  get  —  you  —  home. 

Likely  the  "  idle  creatures "  would  not  be  moved  by  this 
sort  of  talk,  though  no  doubt  the  active  listener  would  be 
quite  willing  to  betake  himself  hence  without  more  urging. 
Such  a  habit  of  reading  will  not  be  improved  much  by 
working  primarily  on  the  manner  of  speaking  the  sentence. 
When  the  meaning  of  the  words  is  understood  and  when 
they  are  spoken  with  the  purpose  of  conveying  their  mean- 
ing to  others,  utterance  will  be  like  that  of  living  speech. 


PROBLEMS    IN    PITCH    VARIATION 

1.  Emphasis  by  change  of  pitch  and  inflection 

1.  God  give  thee  the  spirit  of  persuasion  and  him  the  earb 
of  profiting,  that  what  thou  speakest  may  move,  and  what 
he  hears  may  be  believed. 

Shakespeare:  Henry  IV,  1,  ii. 

2.  The  right  honorable  gentleman  is  indebted  to  his  memory 
for  \\\s,  jests  and  to  his  imagination  for  hi^  facts. 

Sheridan. 


62  ,  OR^VL  READING 


i 


^  .    What  in  me  is  dark 

Illumine,  what  is  low  raise  and  support. 

Milton :  Paradise  Lost,  i. 

\  /  \  /. 

4.  Words  pass  axuay  but  actions  renmin. 

Napoleon. 

5.  'T  is  not  what  man  Does  which  exalts  him. 

But  what  mau  Would  do ! 

Browning :  Saul. 

6.  Thurio.  How  likes  she  my  discourse  ? 
Proteus.  Ill,  when  you  speak  of  war. 

Thurio.  But  well,  when  I  discourse  of  love  and  peace  ? 
Julia  (aside).   But  better,  indeed,  when  you  hold  yout 
peace. 

Thurio.  What  says  she  to  my  birth? 

Proteus.  That  you  are  well  deriv'd. 

Julia  (aside).  True  ;  from  a  gentleman  to  Q.fool. 

Shakespeare :  Tivo  Gentlemen  of  Verona,  v,  ii. 

7.  Talking  is  like  playing  on  the  harp  ;  there  is  as  much  in 
laying  the  hand  on  the  strings  to  stop  a  vibration  as  in 
twanging  them  to  bring  out  the  music. 

Holmes  :  Autocrat  of  the  Breakfast  Table. 

8.  A  word  fitly  spoken  is  like  apples  of  gold  in  pictures  of 
silver.  Proverbs  xxv,  11. 

9.  Polonius.  How  does  my  good  Lord  Hamlet  ? 
Hamlet.  Well,  God  a-mercy. 

Polonius.   Do  you  know  me,  my  lord  ? 
Hamlet.  Excellent  well ;  you  are  a  fishmonger. 
Polonius.  Not  I,  my  lord. 

Hamlet.  Then  I  would  you  were  so  honest  a  man. 
Polonitis.  Honest,  my  lord  ! 

Handet.  Ay,  sir ;  to  be  honest,  as  this  world  goes,  is  to 
be  one  man  picked  out  of  ten  thousand. 
Polonius.  That 's  very  true,  my  lord. 

Shakespeare  :  Hamlet,  ii,  ii. 


PITCH  VARIATION  63 

lOy'^  Of  all  the  heaven-descended  virtues,  that  elevate  and 
ennoble  human  nature,  the  highest,  the  sublimest,  and  the 
diviuest  is  charity. 

Stephens  :  The  Future  of  the  South. 

11.  My  object  at  this  time  is  to  give  encouragement  and  help 
to  the  "  duffers,"  the  class  of  "  hopeful  duffers."  Brilliant 
students  have  every  help,  but  second-class  students  are 
sometimes  neglected  and  disheartened.  I  have  great  sym- 
pathy with  the  "  duffers,"  because  I  was  only  a  second-rate 
student  myself.  The  subject  of  my  talk  with  you  is  books. 
Drummond  :  A  Talk  on  Books. 

V2i.  I  built  my  fortune  on  the  dial  of  my  watch ;  seconds  became 
pennies,  minutes  became  dimes,  hours  became  dollars.  I  gave 
a  money  value  to  every  tick  and  took  advantage  of  every- 
thing that  economized  time.  I  never  procrastinate ;  I  never 
wait  for  other  people  to  get  ahead  of  me.  I  keep  my  eyes 
and  ears  open  for  opportunities  ;  I  look  well  into  whatever 
seems  good  to  me  ;  when  my  judgment  approves  I  act 
promptly  and  with  decision.  I  don't  know  that  there  is  any 
particular  rule  or  law  of  success,  but  I  'm  pretty  sure  that 
one  of  the  foundation  principles  is  "  Don't  lose  Time." 

Not  known. 

13.  A  street.   Enter  Cixna  the  poet. 

Cm.       I  dreamt  to-night  that  I  did  feast  with  Caesar. 
And  things  unluckily  charge  my  fantasy  : 
I  have  no  will  to  wander  forth  of  doors, 
Yet  something  leads  me  forth. 

Enter  Citizens. 

First  Cit.  What  is  your  name  ? 

Sec.  Cit.  Whither  are  you  going  ? 

Third  Cit.  Where  do  you  dwell  ? 

Fourth  Cit.  Are  you  a  married  man  or  a  bachelor  ? 

Sec.  Cit.  Answer  every  man  directly. 

First  Cit.  Ay,  and  briefly. 

Fourth  Cit.  Ay,  and  wisely. 

Third  Cit.  Ay,  and  truly,  you  were  best. 


64  ORAL  RE.VDING 

Cin.  What  is  my  name?  Wliitlier  am  I  going  ?  Where  do 
I  dwell  ?  Am  I  a  married  man  or  a  bachelor  ?  Then,  to 
answer  every  man  directly  and  briefly,  wisely  and  truly : 
wisely  I  say,  I  am  a  bachelor. 

Sec.  Cit.  That 's  as  much  as  to  say,  they  are  fools  that 
marry  :  you  '11  bear  me  a  bang  for  that,  I  fear.  Proceed ; 
directly. 

Cin.  Directly,  I  am  going  to  Caesar's  funeral. 

First.  Cit.  As  a  friend  or  an  enemy  ? 

Cin.  As  a  friend. 

Sec.  Cit.  That  matter  is  answered  directly. 

Fourth  Cit.  For  your  dwelling,  —  briefly. 

Cin.  Briefly,  I  dwell  by  the  Capitol. 

Third  Cit.  Your  name,  sir,  truly. 

Cin.  Truly,  my  name  is  Cinna. 

First  Cit.  Tear  him  to  pieces ;  he  's  a  conspirator. 

Cin.  I  am  Cinna  the  poet,  I  am  Cinna  the  poet. 

Fourth  Cit.  Tear  him  for  his  bad  verses,  tear  him  for 
his  bad  verses. 

Cin.  I  am  not  Cinna  the  conspirator. 

Sec.  Cit.  It  is  no  matter,  his  name  's  Cinna ;  pluck  but 
his  name  out  of  his  heart,  and  turn  him  going. 

Third  Cit.  Tear  him,  tear  him  !  Come,  brands,  ho  !  fire- 
brands :  to  Brutus',  to  Cassius';  burn  all :  some  to  Decius' 
house,  and  some  to  Casca's  ;  some  to  Ligarius' :  away  !  go ! 

\^Exeunt. 
Shakespeare :  Julius  Ccesar,  iii,  iii. 

2.  Clauses  of  complete  thought 
14.  My  Lords,  I  have  submitted  to  you,  with  the  freedom  and 
truth  which  I  tliink  my  duty,  my  sentiments  on  your  pres- 
ent awful  situation.  I  have  laid  before  you  the  ruin  of  your 
power,  the  disgrace  of  your  reputation,  the  pollution  ot 
your  discipline,  the  contamination  of  your  morals,  the  com- 
plication of  calamities,  foreign  and  domestic,  that  overwhelm 
your  sinking  country.  Your  dearest  interests,  your  own  lib- 
erties, the  Constitution  itself,  totters  to  the  foundation.  All 
this  disgraceful  danger,  this  multitude  of  misery,  is  the 
monstrous  ofEs^jring  of  this  unnatural  war. 

Chatham  :  Speech  on  American  Affairs. 


PITCH  VARIATION  65 

15.  "  The  world,"  says  Tertullian,  "  has  more  of  cultivation 
every  day,  and  is  better  furnished  than  in  times  of  old.  All 
places  are  opened  now ;  all  are  familiarly  known ;  all  are  scenes 
of  business.  Smiling  farms  have  obliterated  the  notorious 
wilderness  ;  tillage  has  tamed  the  forest  land  ;  flocks  have 
put  to  flight  the  beasts  of  prey.  Sandy  tracts  are  sown  ;  rocks 
are  put  into  shape;  marshes  are  drained.  There  are  more 
cities  now,  than  there  were  cottages  at  one  time.  Islands  are 
no  longer  wild ;  the  crag  is  no  longer  frightful ;  everywhere 
there  is  a  home,  a  population,  a  state,  and  a  livelihood." 
Newman:  Downfall  and  Refuge  of  Ancient  Civilization. 

16.  The  works  of  the  great  poets  have  never  yet  been  read 
by  mankind,  for  only  great  poets  can  read  them.  Most  men 
have  learned  to  read  to  serve  a  jsaltry  convenience,  as  they 
have  learned  to  cipher  in  order  to  keep  accounts  and  not  be 
cheated  in  trade  but  of  reading  as  a  noble  intellectual  exer- 
cise they  know  little  or  nothing;  yet  this  only  is  reading,  in 
a  high  sense,  not  that  which  lulls  us  as  a  luxury  and  suffers 
the  noble  faculties  to  sleep  the  while,  but  what  we  have  to 
stand  on  tiptoe  to  read  and  devote  our  most  alert  and  wake- 
ful hours  to. 

Thoreau :   Walden  {Essay  on  Reading). 

17.  A  mighty  duty,  sir,  and  a  mighty  inspiration  impels  every 
one  of  us  to-night  to  lose  in  patriotic  consecration  whatever 
estranges,  whatever  divides.  We,  sir,  are  Americans  —  and 
we  figlit  for  human  liberty !  The  uplifting  force  of  the 
American  idea  is  under  every  throne  on  earth.  To  redeem 
the  earth  from  kingcraft  and  oppression  —  this  is  our  mission ! 
And  we  shall  not  fail.  God  has  sown  in  our  soil  the  seed  of 
his  millennial  harvest,  and  he  will  not  lay  the  sickle  to  the 
ripening  crop  until  his  full  and  perfect  day  has  come. 

Grady :   The  New  South. 

18.  And  now,  Mr.  President,  instead  of  speaking  of  the  pos- 
sibility or  utility  of  secession,  instead  of  dwelling  in  those 
caverns  of  darkness,  instead  of  groping  with  those  ideas  so 
full  of  all  that  is  horrid  and  horrible,  let  us  come  out  into 


66  ORAL  READING 

the  liglit  of  (lay ;  let  us  enjoy  the  fresh  air  of  Liberty  and 
Union ;  let  us  cherish  those  hopes  which  belong  to  us  ;  let  us 
devote  ourselves  to  those  great  objects  that  are  fit  for  our 
consiileration  and  our  action ;  let  us  raise  our  conceptions  to 
the  magnitude  and  the  importance  of  the  duties  that  de- 
volve upon  us ;  let  our  comprehension  be  as  broad  as  the 
country  for  which  we  act,  our  aspirations  as  high  as  its  cer- 
tain destiny ;  let  us  not  be  pigmies  in  a  case  that  calls  for 
men.  Never  did  there  devolve  on  any  generation  of  men 
higher  trusts  than  now  devolve  upon  us,  for  the  preservation 
of  this  Constitution  and  the  harmony  and  peace  of  all  wlio 
are  destined  to  live  under  it.  Let  us  make  our  generation 
one  of  the  strongest  and  brightest  links  in  that  golden  chain 
■which  is  desti-ned,  I  fondly  believe,  to  grapple  the  people  of 
all  the  States  to  this  Constitution  for  ages  to  come. 

Daniel  Webster :   The  Constitution  and  the  Union. 

19.  Go  where  he  will,  the  wise  man  is  at  home, 

His  hearth  the  Earth,  —  his  hall  the  azure  dome; 
Where  his  clear  spirit  leads  him,  there  's  his  road, 
By  God's  own  light  illumined  and  foreshowed. 

Emerson :   Woodnotes. 

3.  Dependent  and  incomplete  clauses 

20.  Since  his  majesty  went  into  the  field,  I  have  seen  her  rise 
from  her  bed,  throw  her  night-gown  upon  her,  unlock  her 
closet,  take  forth  paper,  fold  it,  write  upon  't,  read  it,  after- 
wards seal  it,  and  again  return  to  bed ;  yet  all  this  while  in 
a  most  fast  sleep. 

Shakespeare  :  Macbeth,  v,  i. 

21.  The  hackneyed  example  of  moral  deliberation  is  the  case 
of  an  habitual  drunkard  under  temjitation.  He  has  made  a 
resolve  to  reform,  but  he  is  now  solicited  again  by  the  bottle. 
His  moral  triumph  or  failure  literally  consists  in  his  finding 
the  right  name  for  the  case.  If  he  says  that  it  is  a  case  of 
not  wasting  liquor  already  poured  out,  or  a  case  of  not  being 
churlish  and  unsociable  when  in  the  midst  of  friends,  or  a 
case  of  learning  something  at  last  about  a  brand  of  whiskey 


PITCH  VARIATION  67 

•which  he  never  met  before,  or  a  case  of  celebrating  a  public 
holiday,  or  a  case  of  stimulating  himself  to  a  more  energetic 
resolve  in  favor  of  abstinence  than  he  has  ever  yet  made, 
then  he  is  lost.  His  choice  of  the  wrong  name  seals  liis  doom. 
But  if,  in  spite  of  all  the  plausible  good  names  with  which 
his  thirsty  fancy  so  copiously  furnishes  him,  he  unwaveringly 
clings  to  the  truer  bad  name,  and  apperceives  the  case  as 
that  of  "  being  a  drunkard,  being  a  drunkard,  being  a  drunk- 
ard," his  feet  are  planted  on  the  road  to  salvation.  He  saves 
himself  by  thinking  rightly. 

William  James  :   Talks  to  Teachers} 

22.  His  style  of  speech  and  manner  of  delivery  were  severely 
simple.  What  Lowell  called  "•  the  grand  simplicities  of  the 
Bible,"  with  which  he  was  so  familiar,  were  reflected  in  his 
discourse.  With  no  attempt  at  ornament  or  rhetoric,  with- 
out parade  or  pretence,  he  spoke  straight  to  the  point.  If 
any  came  expecting  the  turgid  eloquence  or  the  ribaldry  of 
the  frontier,  they  must  have  been  startled  at  the  earnest  and 
sincere  purity  of  his  utterances.  It  was  marvellous  to  see 
how  this  untutored  man,  by  mere  self-discii)Hne  and  the 
chastening  of  his  own  spirit,  had  outgrown  all  meretricious 
arts  and  found  his  way  to  the  grandeur  and  strength  of  abso- 
lute simplicity. 

Joseph  H.  Choate  :  Lincoln  as  a  Lawyer  and  Orator.^ 

23.  Our  usual  diet  on  the  plantation  was  corn  bread  and  pork, 
but  on  Sunday  morning  my  mother  was  permitted  to  bring 
down  a  little  molasses  from  the  "  big  house  "  for  the  three 
children,  and  when  it  was  received  how  I  did  wish  that  every 
day  was  Sunday  !  I  would  get  my  tin  plate  and  hold  it  up 
for  the  sweet  morsel,  but  I  would  always  shut  my  eyes  while 
the  molasses  was  being  poured  into  the  plate,  with  the  hope 
that  when  I  opened  them  I  would  be  surprised  to  see  how 
much  I  had  got.  When  I  opened  my  eyes  I  would  tip  the 
plate  in  one  direction  and  another,  so  as  to  make  the  mo- 

1  Copyright,  1900,  by  Henry  Holt  and  Company.  Used  with  the  kind  per" 
mission  of  the  publishers. 
*  Used  with  the  kind  permission  of  the  author. 


68  ORAL  READING 

lasses  spread  all  over  it,  in  the  full  belief  that  there  would 
be  more  of  it  and  that  it  would  last  longer  if  spread  out  in 
this  way.  My  share  of  the  syrup  was  usually  about  two 
tablespoonfuls,  and  those  two  spoonfuls  of  molasses  were 
much  more  enjoyable  to  me  tlian  is  a  fourteen-course  dinner 
after  whicli  I  am  to  speak. 

Booker  T.  Washington :   Up  from  Slavery } 

24.  And  while  he  pray'd,  the  master  of  that  ship 
Enoch  had  served  in,  hearing  his  mischance, 
Came,  for  he  knew  the  man  and  valued  him. 
Reporting  of  his  vessel  China-bound, 

And  wanting  yet  a  boatswain.  Would  he  go  ? 
There  yet  were  many  weeks  before  she  sail'd, 
Sail'd  from  this  port.  Would  Enoch  have  the  place? 
And  Enoch  all  at  once  assented  to  it. 
Rejoicing  at  that  answer  to  his  prayer. 

Tennyson :  Enoch  Arden. 

4.  Subordination  and  interrupted  clauses 

25.  Bo-bo  was  in  the  utmost  consternation,  as  you  may  think, 
not  so  much  for  the  sake  of  the  tenement,  which  his  father 
and  he  could  easily  build  up  again  with  a  few  dry  branches, 
and  the  labor  of  an  hour  or  two,  at  any  time,  as  for  the  loss 
of  the  pigs. 

Lamb :  A  Dissertation  on  Hoast  Pig. 

26.  To  try  thy  eloquence,  now  't  is  time  ;  dispatch. 
From  Antony  win  Cleopatra;  promise. 

And  in  our  name,  what  she  requires ;  add  more, 
From  thine  invention,  offers. 

Shakespeare  :  Antony  and  Cleopatra,  ill,  x. 

27.  But  a  brook  hath  ta'en  — 

A  little  rill  of  scanty  stream  and  bed  — 

A  name  of  blood  from  that  day's  sanguine  rain. 

Byron  :  Childe  Harold.    (Canto  iv,  65.) 

^  Copyright,  1901,  by  Booker  T.  Washinqrton.  Used  with  the  kind  permis- 
sion of  the  publishers,  Doubleday,  Page  and  Company. 


PITCH  VARIATION  69 

28.  Which  blood,  like  sacrificing  Abel's,  cries, 
Even  from  the  tongueless  caverns  of  the  earth, 
To  me  for  justice  and  rough  chastisement. 

Shakespeare  :  Richard  II,  I,  i. 

29.  Cowards  die  many  times  before  their  deaths, 
~'           The  valiant  never  taste  of  death  but  once. 

Of  all  the  wonders  that  I  yet  have  heard, 

It  seems  to  me  most  strange  that  men  should  fear ; 

Seeing  that  death,  a  necessary  end, 

Will  come  when  it  will  come. 

Shakespeare  :  Julius  Ccesar,  rr,  ii. 

80.  The  genius  of  the  people,  stimulated  to  prodigious  activ- 
ity by  freedom,  by  individualism,  by  universal  education,  has 
subjected  the  desert  and  abolished  the  frontier. 

31.  As,  when  from  mountain-tops  the  dusky  clouds 
Ascending,  while  the  North-wind  sleeps,  o'erspread 
Heaven's  cheerful  face,  the  louring  element 
Scowls  o'er  the  darkened  landscape  snow  or  shower, 
If  chance  the  radiant  sun,  with  farewell  sweet, 
Extend  his  evening  beam,  the  fields  revive, 

The  birds  their  notes  renew,  and  bleating  herds 
Attest  their  joy,  that  hill  and  valley  rings. 
O  shame  to  men  !   Devil  with  devil  damned 
Firm  concord  holds  ;  men  only  disagree 
Of  creatures  rational,  though  under  hope 
Of  heavenly  grace,  and,  God  proclaiming  peace. 
Yet  live  in  hatred,  enmity,  and  strife 
Among  themselves,  and  levy  cruel  wars, 
Wasting  the  earth,  each  other  to  destroy. 

Milton  :  Paradise  Lost,  ii,  488-502. 

32.  The  mind  of  man  is  peopled,  like  some  silent  city,  with  a 
sleeping  company  of  reminiscences,  associations,  impres- 
sions, attitudes,  emotions,  to  be  awakened  into  fierce  activ- 
ity at  the  touch  of  words.  By  one  way  or  another,  with  a 
fanfaronnade  of  the  marching  trumpets,  or  stealthily,  by 


70  ORiVL  READING 

noiseless  passages  and  dark  posterns,  the  troop  of  suggest- 
ers  enters  the  citadel  to  do  its  work  within.  The  procession 
of  heautiful  sounds  that  is  a  poem  passes  in  through  the 
main  gate,  and  forthwith  the  hy-ways  resound  to  the  hurry 
of  ghostly  feet,  until  the  small  company  of  adventurers  is 
well-nigh  lost  and  overwhelmed  in  that  throng  of  insurgent 
spirits.  Raleigh:  Style. 

33.  And  Ardennes  waves  above  them  her  green  leaves, 
Dewy  with  nature's  tear-drops  as  they  pass, 
Grieving,  if  aught  inanimate  e'er  grieves, 

Over  the  unreturning  brave,  —  alas  ! 
Ere  evening  to  be  trodden  like  the  grass 
Which  now  beneath  them,  but  above  shall  grow 
In  its  next  verdure,  when  this  fiery  mass 
Of  living  valor,  rolling  on  the  foe 

And  burning  with  high  hope  shall  moulder  cold  and  low. 
Byron :   ChUde  Harold.  (Canto  iii,  27.) 

34.  But,  though  forsaken  by  the  fickle  and  the  selfish,  a  sol- 
emn enthusiasm,  a  stern  and  determined  depth  of  principle, 
a  confidence  in  the  sincerity  of  their  own  motives,  and  the 
manly  English  pride  which  inclined  them  to  cling  to  their 
former  opinions,  like  the  traveller  in  the  fable  to  his  cloak, 
the  more  strongly  that  the  tempest  blew  around  them,  de- 
tained in  the  ranks  of  the  Puritans  many,  who,  if  no  longer 
formidable  from  numbers,  were  still  so  f i-om  their  character. 

Scott :  Peveril  of  the  Peak,  chap.  iv. 

5.  Contrast  and  comparison 

35.  Think  not  the  king  did  banish  thee, 

But  thou  the  king.  Shakespeare  :  Richard  II,  I,  iii. 

36.  Does  not  the  South  need  peace  ?  And,  since  free  labor  is 
inevitable,  will  you  have  it  in  its  worst  forms  or  in  its  best? 
Shall  it  be  ignorant,  impertinent,  indolent,  or  shall  it  be 
educated,  self-respecting,  moral,  and  self-supporting  ?  Will 
you  have  men  as  drudges,  or  will  you  have  them  as  citizens  ? 

Beecher :  liaising  the  Flag  over  Fort  Sumter. 


PITCH  VARIATION  71 

37.  As  gold 

Outvalues  dross,  light  darkness,  Abel  Cain, 
The  soul  the  body,  and  the  Church  the  Throne, 
I  charge  thee,  upon  pain  of  mine  anathema, 
That  thou  obey,  not  me,  but  God  in  me, 
Rather  than  Henry. 

Tennyson :  BecTcet,  i,  iii. 

38.  What  is  the  rule  of  honor  to  be  observed  by  a  Power  so 
strong  and  so  advantageously  situated  as  this  Republic  is  ? 
Of  course,  I  do  not  expect  it  meekly  to  pocket  real  insults 
if  they  should  be  offered  to  it.  But  surely,  it  should  not,  as 
our  boyish  jingoes  wish  it  to  do,  swagger  about  among  the 
nations  of  the  world,  with  a  chip  on  its  shoulder,  and  shak- 
ing its  fist  in  everybody's  face.  Of  course,  it  should  not 
tamely  submit  to  real  encroachments  upon  its  rights.  But, 
surely,  it  should  not,  whenever  its  own  notions  of  right  or 
interest  collide  with  the  notions  of  others,  fall  into  hysterics 
and  act  as  if  it  really  feared  for  its  own  security  and  its 
very  independence.  As  a  true  gentleman,  conscious  of  his 
strength  and  his  dignity,  it  should  be  slow  to  take  offense. 
In  its  dealings  with  other  nations  it  should  have  scrupulous 
regard,  not  only  for  their  rights,  but  also  for  their  self- 
respect.  With  all  its  latent  resources  for  war,  it  should  be 
the  great  peace  Power  of  the  world.  It  should  never  forget 
what  a  proud  privilege  and  what  an  inestimable  blessing  it 
is  not  to  need  and  not  to  have  big  armies  or  navies  to  sup- 
port. It  should  seek  to  influence  mankind,  not  by  heavy 
artillery,  but  by  good  example  and  wise  counsel.  It  should 
see  its  highest  glory,  not  in  battles  won,  but  in  wars  pre- 
vented. It  should  be  so  invariably  just  and  fair,  so  trust- 
worthy, so  good  tempered,  so  conciliatory  that  other  nations 
would  instinctively  turn  to  it  as  their  mutual  friend  and  the 
natural  adjuster  of  their  differences,  thus  making  it  the 
greatest  preserver  of  the  worlds  pear-e. 

Schnrz:  The  Venezuelan  Question.  (Speech  before  the 
New  York  Chamber  of  Commerce,  Jan.  2,  1896.)* 

1  Copyright,  1913,  by  Schurz  Memorial  Committee.    Used  with  the  kind 
permission  of  the  publishers,  G.  P.  Putnam's  Sous. 


72  OR.\L  RE.\DING 

39.  And  what  sort  of  business  do  we  mean  ?  Surely  the  larger 
sorts  of  lei,dtunate  and  honorable  business  ;  that  business 
which  is  of  advantage  both  to  buyer  and  seller,  and  to  pro- 
ducer, distributor  and  consumer  alike,  whether  individuals 
or  nations,  which  makes  common  some  useful  thing  which 
has  been  rare,  or  makes  accessible  to  the  masses  good  things 
which  have  been  within  reach  only  of  a  few. 

Eliot :   Uses  of  Education  for  Business. 

40.  Look,  as  I  blow  this  feather  from  my  face, 
And  as  the  air  blows  it  to  me  again, 
Obeying  with  my  wind  when  I  do  blow, 
And  yielding  to  another  when  it  blows, 
Commanded  always  by  the  greater  gust ; 
Such  is  the  lightness  of  you  common  men. 

Shakespeare  :  Henry  VI,  Part  III,  iii,  i. 

41.  I  presume 
That  as  my  hand  has  open'd  bounty  to  you, 

My  heart  dropp'd  love,  my  power  rain'd  honour,  mor.' 
On  you  than  any ;  so  your  hand  and  heart, 
Your  brain,  and  every  function  of  your  power, 
Should,  notwithstanding  that  your  bond  of  duty, 
As  't  were  in  love's  particular,  be  more 
To  me,  your  friend,  than  any. 

Shakespeare :  Henry  VIII,  in,  ii. 

42.  Therefore  doth  heaven  divide 
The  state  of  man  in  divers  functions. 
Setting  endeavour  in  continual  motion  ; 
To  which  is  fixed,  as  an  aim  or  butt, 
Obedience  :  for  so  work  the  honey-bees, 
Creatures  that  by  a  rule  in  nature  teach 
The  act  of  order  to  a  peopled  kingdom. 
They  have  a  king  and  officers  of  sorts ; 
Where  some,  like  magistrates,  correct  at  home, 
Others,  like  merchants,  venture  trade  abroad. 
Others,  like  soldiers,  armed  in  their  stings, 
Make  boot  upon  the  summer's  velvet  buds, 


PITCH  VARIATION  73 

Which  pillage  they  with  merry  march  bring  home 

To  the  tent-royal  of  their  emperor ; 

"Who,  busied  in  his  majesty,  surveys 

The  singing  masons  building  roofs  of  gold, 

The  civil  citizens  kneading  up  the  honey, 

The  poor  mechanic  porters  crowding  in 

Their  heavy  burdens  at  his  narrow  gate, 

The  sad-eyed  justice,  with  his  surly  hum, 

Delivering  o'er  to  executors  pale 

The  lazy  yawning  drone.  I  this  infer, 

That  many  things,  having  full  reference 

To  one  consent,  may  work  contrariously : 

As  many  arrows,  loosed  several  ways. 

Come  to  one  mark ;  as  many  ways  meet  in  one  town ; 

As  many  fresh  streams  meet  in  one  salt  sea ; 

As  many  lines  close  in  the  dial's  centre ; 

So  may  a  thousand  actions,  once  afoot, 

End  in  one  purpose,  and  be  all  well  borne 

Without  defeat. 

Shakespeare :  Henry  V,  I,  ii. 

6.  For  general  reading 

THE  MAN  WITHOUT  A  COUNTRY 

Edward  Everett  Hale 

43.  Philip  Nolan  was  as  fine  a  young  officer  as  there  was 
in  the  "  Legion  of  the  West,"  as  the  Western  division  of 
our  army  >\  as  then  called.  When  Aaron  Burr  made  his  first 
dashing  expedition  down  to  New  Orleans  in  1805,  at  Fort 
Massac,  or  somewhere  above  on  the  river,  he  met,  as  the 
Devil  would  have  it,  this  gay,  dashing,  bright  young  fel- 
low ;  at  some  dinner-party,  I  think.  Burr  marked  him, 
talked  to  him,  walked  with  him,  took  him  a  day  or  two's 
voyage  in  his  flat-boat,  and,  in  short,  fascinated  him.  For 
the  next  year,  barrack-life  was  very  tame  to  poor  Nolan. 
He  occasionally  availed  himself  of  the  permission  the  great 
man  had  given  him  to  write  to  him.  Long,  high-worded, 
stilted  letters  the  poor  boy  wrote  and  rewrote  and  copied. 
But  never  a  line  did  he  have  in  reply  from  the  gay  de- 
ceiver. The  other  boys  in  the  garrison  sneered  at  him,  be- 


74  ORAL  READING 

cause  he  lost  the  fun  which  they  found  in  shooting  or  row- 
ing while  he  was  working  away  on  these  grand  letters  to 
his  grand  friend.  They  could  not  understand  why  Nolan 
kept  by  himself  while  they  were  playing  high-low  jack.  But 
before  long  the  young  fellow  had  his  revenge.  For  this 
time  His  Excellency,  Honorable  Aaron  Burr,  appeared 
again  under  a  very  different  aspect.  There  were  rumors 
that  he  had  an  army  behind  him  and  everybody  supposed 
that  he  had  an  empire  before  him.  At  that  time  the  young- 
sters all  envied  him.  Burr  had  not  been  talking  twenty 
minutes  with  the  commander  before  he  asked  him  to  send 
for  Lieutenant  Nolan.  Then  after  a  little  talk  he  asked 
Nolan  if  he  could  show  him  something  of  the  great  river 
and  the  plans  for  the  new  post.  He  asked  Nolan  to  take 
him  out  in  his  skiff  to  show  him  a  canebrake  or  a  cotton- 
wood  tree,  as  he  said,  —  really  to  seduce  him  ;  and  by  the 
time  the  sail  was  over,  Nolan  was  enlisted  body  and  soul. 
From  that  time,  though  he  did  not  yet  know  it,  he  lived  aa 

A  MAN  WITHOUT  A  COUNTRY. 

What  Burr  meant  to  do  I  know  no  more  than  you,  dear 
reader.  It  is  none  of  our  business  just  now.  Only,  when  the 
grand  catastrophe  came,  and  Jefferson  and  the  House  of 
Virginia  of  that  day  undertook  to  break  on  the  wheel  all 
the  possible  Clarences  of  the  then  House  of  York,  by  the 
great  treason  trial  at  Richmond,  some  of  the  lesser  fry  in 
that  distant  Mississippi  Valley,  which  was  farther  from  us 
than  Puget's  Sound  is  to-day,  introduced  the  like  novelty 
on  their  provincial  stage  ;  and,  to  while  away  the  monotony 
of  the  summer  at  Fort  Adams,  got  up,  for  spectacles,  a 
string  of  court-martials  on  the  officers  there.  One  and  an- 
other of  the  colonels  and  majors  were  tried,  and,  to  fill  out 
the  list,  little  Nolan,  against  whom,  Heaven  knows^  there 
was  evidence  enough,  —  that  he  was  sick  of  the  service,  had 
been  willing  to  be  false  to  it,  and  would  have  obeyed  any 
order  to  march  any-whither  with  any  one  who  would  follow 
him  had  the  order  been  signed,  "  By  command  of  His  Exc. 
A.  Burr."  The  courts  dragged  on.  The  big  flies  escaped, 
—  rightly  for  all  I  know.  Nolan  was  proved  guilty  enough, 
as  I  say  ;  yet  you  and  I  would  never  have  heard  of  him 


PITCH  VARIATION  75 

but  that,  when  the  president  of  the  court  asked  him  at  the 
close  whether  he  wished  to  say  anything  to  show  that  he 
had  always  been  faithful  to  the  United  States,  he  cried  out, 
in  a  fit  of  frenzy,  — 

"  Damn  the  United  States  !  I  wish  I  may  never  hear  of 
the  United  States  again  !  " 

I  suppose  he  did  not  know  how  the  words  shocked  old 
Colonel  Morgan,  who  was  holding  the  court.  Half  the  offi- 
cers who  sat  in  it  had  served  through  the  Revolution,  and 
their  lives,  not  to  say  their  necks,  had  been  risked  for  the 
very  idea  which  he  so  cavalierly  cursed  in  his  madness. 
He,  on  his  part,  had  grown  up  in  the  West  of  those  days 
in  the  midst  of  "  Spanish  plot,"  "  Orleans  plot,"  and  all  the 
rest.  He  had  spent  half  his  youth  with  an  older  brother, 
hunting  horses  in  Texas;  and,  in  a  word,  to  him  "United 
States  "  was  scarcely  a  reality.  Yet  he  had  been  fed  by 
"United  States  "  for  all  the  years  since  he  had  been  in  the 
army.  He  had  sworn  on  his  faith  as  a  Christian  to  be  true 
to  "  United  States."  It  was  "  United  States  "  which  gave 
him  the  uniform  he  wore,  and  the  sword  by  his  side.  Nay, 
my  poor  Nolan,  it  was  only  because  "  United  States  "  had 
picked  you  out  first  as  one  of  her  own  confidential  men  of 
honor  that  "  A.  Burr  "  cared  for  you  a  straw  more  than  for 
the  fiat-boat  men  who  sailed  his  ark  for  him.  I  do  not  excuse 
Nolan ;  I  only  explain  to  the  reader  why  he  damned  his 
country,  and  wished  he  might  never  hear  her  name  again. 

He  never  did  hear  her  name  but  once  again.  From  that 
moment,  September  23,  1807,  till  the  day  he  died.  May  11, 
1863,  he  never  heard  her  name  again.  For  that  half-century 
and  more  he  was  a  man  without  a  country. 

Old  Morgan,  as  I  said,  was  terribly  shocked.  If  Nolail- 
had  compared  George  Washington  to  Benedict  Arnold,  or 
had  cried,  "  God  save  King  George,"  Morgan  would  not 
have  felt  worse.  He  called  the  court  into  his  private  room, 
and  returned  in  fifteen  minutes,  with  a  face  like  a  sheet,  to 
say, — 

"  Prisoner,  hear  the  sentence  of  the  Court !  The  Court 
decides,  subject  to  the  approval  of  the  President,  that  you 
never  hear  the  name  of  the  United  States  again." 


TO  ORAL  READING 

Nolan  laughed.  But  nobody  else  lauglied.  Old  Morgan 
was  too  solemn,  anil  the  whole  room  was  luished  dead  as 
night  for  a  minute.  Even  Nolan  lost  his  swagger  in  a 
moment.  Then  Morgan  added,  — 

"Mr.  Marshal,  take  the  prisoner  to  Orleans  in  an  armed 
boat,  and  diliver  him  to  tiie  naval  commander  there." 

The  marshal  gave  his  orders  and  the  prisoner  was  taken 
out  of  court. 

"  Mr.  Marshal,"  continued  old  Morgan,  "  see  that  no  one 
mentions  the  United  States  to  the  prisoner.  Mr.  Marshal, 
make  my  respects  to  Lieutenant  Mitchell  at  Orleans,  and 
request  him  to  order  that  no  one  shall  mention  the  United 
States  to  the  prisoner  while  he  is  on  board  ship.  You  will 
receive  your  written  orders  from  the  officer  on  duty  here  this 
evening.  The  Court  is  adjourned  without  day." 

I  have  alvi^ays  supposed  that  Colonel  Morgan  himself  took 
the  proceedings  of  the  court  to  Washington  city,  and  ex- 
plained them  to  Mr.  Jefferson.  Certain  it  is  (hat  the  Presi- 
dent approved  them,  —  certain,  that  is,  if  I  may  believe  the 
men  who  say  they  have  seen  his  signature.  Before  the  Nau- 
tilus got  round  from  New  Orleans  to  the  Northern  Atlantic 
coast; with  the  prisoner  on  board,  the  sentence  had  been 
approved,  and  he  was  a  man  without  a  country. 

The  plan  tlien  adopted  was  substantially  the  same  which 
was  necessarily  followed  ever  after.  The  Secretary  of  the 
Navy  was  requested  tc  put  Nolan  on  board  a  government 
vessel  bound  on  a  long  cruise,  and  to  direct  that  he  should 
be  only  so  far  confined  there  as  to  make  it  certain  that  he 
never  saw  or  heard  of  the  country.  We  had  few  long  cruises 
then,  and  the  navy  was  very  much  out  of  favor.  But  the 
commander  to  whom  he  was  intrusted  regulated  tlie  etiquette 
and  the  precautions  of  the  affair,  and  according  to  his 
scheme  thoy  were  carried  out,  I  suppose,  till  Nolan  died. 

The  rule  adopted  on  board  the  ship  was,  I  think,  trans- 
mitted from  the  beginning.  No  mess  liked  to  have  him  per- 
manently, because  his  presence  cut  off'  all  talk  of  home  or 
of  the  prospect  of  return,  of  politics  or  letters,  of  peace  or 
of  war,  —  cut  off  moi-e  tlian  half  the  talk  men  liked  to  have 
at  sea.  He  was  not  permitted  to  talk  with  the  men,  unless  an 


PITCH  VARIATION  77 

oflBcer  was  by.  With  officers  he  had  unrestrained  intercourse, 
as  far  as  they  and  he  chose.  Then  the  captain  always  asked 
him  to  dinner  on  Monday.  His  breakfast  he  ate  in  his  o\\n 
stateroom,  —  he  always  had  a  stateroom,  —  which  was  wliere 
a  sentinel  or  somebody  on  the  watch  could  see  the  door. 
And  whatever  else  he  ate  or  drank,  he  ate  or  drank  alone. 
Sometimes,  when  the  marines  or  sailors  had  any  special 
jollification,  they  were  permitted  to  invite  "  Plain-Buttons," 
as  they  called  him.  Then  Nolan  was  sent  with  some  officer, 
and  the  men  were  forbidden  to  speak  of  home  while  he  was 
there.  I  believe  the  theory  was  that  the  sight  of  his  punish- 
ment did  them  good.  They  called  him  ■"  Plain-Buttons," 
because,  while  he  always  chose  to  wear  a  regulation  army- 
uniform,  he  was  not  permitted  to  wear  the  army-button,  for 
the  reason  that  it  bore  either  the  initials  or  the  insignia  of 
the  country  he  had  disowned. 

As  he  was  almost  never  permitted  to  go  on  shore,  .even 
though  the  vessel  lay  in  port  for  months,  his  time  at  the  best 
hang  heavy  ;  and  everybody  was  permitted  to  lend  him  books, 
if  they  were  not  published  in  America  and  made  no  allusion 
to  it.  He  had  almost  all  the  foreign  jjapers  that  came  inlo 
the'ship,  sooner  or  later  ;  only  somebody  must  go  over  them 
first,  and  cut  out  any  advertisement  or  stray  paragraph  that 
alluded  to  America  Right  in  the  midst  of  one  of  Napoleon's 
battles,  or  one  of  Canning's  speeches,  poor  Nolan  would 
find  a  great  hole,  because  on  the  back  of  the  page  of  that 
paper  there  had  been  an  advertisement  of  a  packet  for  New 
York,  or  a  scrap  from  the  President's  message.  They  had 
touched  at  the  Cape,  and  had  done  the  civil  thing  with  the 
English  Admiral  and  the  fleet,  and  then,  leaving  for  a  long 
cruise  up  the  Indian  Ocean,  Phillips  had  borrowed  a  lot  of 
English  books  from  an  officer,  which,  in  those  days,  as  indeed 
in  these,  was  quite  a  windfall.  Among  them,  as  tlie  Devil 
would  order,  was  the  Lay  of  the  Last  Minstrel,  which  they 
had  all  of  them  heard  of,  but  which  most  of  them  had  never 
seen.  Well,  nobody  thought  there  could  be  any  risk  of  any- 
thing national  in  that,  though  Phillips  swore  old  Shaw  had 
cut  out  the  Teinpest  from  Shakespeare  before  he  let  Nolan 
have  it,  because  he  said  "  the  Bermudas  ought  to  be  ours, 


ORAL  READING 

and,  by  Jove,  should  be  one  day."  So  Nolan  was  permitted 
to  join  the  circle  one  afternoon  when  a  lot  of  them  sat  on 
deck  smoking  and  reading  aloud.  Well,  so  it  happened  that 
in  his  turn  Nolan  took  the  book  and  read  to  the  others  ;  and 
he  read  very  well,  as  I  know.  Nobody  in  the  circlelknew  a 
line  of  the  poem,  only  it  was  all  magic  and  Border  chiv- 
alry, and  was  ten  thousand  years  ago.  Poor  Nolan  read 
steadily  through  the  fifth  canto  and  then  began,  without  a 
thought  of  what  was  coming,  — 

Breathes  there  the  man,  with  soul  so  dead, 
Who  never  to  himself  hath  said,  — 

It  seems  impossible  to  us  that  anybody  ever  heard  this 
for  the  first  time  ;  but  all  these  fellows  did  then,  and  poor 
Nolan  himself  went  on,  still  unconsciously  or  mechanically, — 
This  is  my  own,  my  native  land  I 

Then  they  all  saw  that  something  was  to  pay  ;  but  he  ex- 
pected to  get  through,  I  suppose,  turned  a  little  pale,  but 
plunged  on,  — 

Whose  heart  hath  ne'er  within  him  burned. 
As  home  his  footsteps  he  hath  turned 

From  wandering  on  a  foreign  strand  ?  — 
If  such  there  breathe,  go,  mark  him  well,  — 

By  this  time  the  men  were  all  beside  themselves,  wishing 

there  was  any  way  to  make  him  turn  over  two  pages ;  but 

he  had  not  quite  presence  of  mind  for  that ;  he  gagged  a 

little,  colored  crimson,  and  staggered  on,  — 

For  him  no  minstrel  raptures  swell ; 
High  though  his  titles,  proud  his  name. 
Boundless  his  wealth  as  wish  can  claim, 
Despite  these  titles,  power,  and  pelf, 
The  wretch,  concentred  all  in  self,  — 

and  here  the  poor  fellow  choked,  could  not  go  on,  but  started 
up,  s^vung  the  book  into  the  sea,  vanished  into  his  stateroom, 
*'  And  by  Jove,"  said  Phillips,  "  we  did  not  see  him  for 
two  months  again." 

He  never  read  aloud  again,  unless  it  was  the  Bible  or 
Shakespeare,  or  something  else  he  was  sure  of.  But  it  was 
not  that  merely.  He  never  entered  in  with  the  other  young 
men  exactly  as  a  companion  again.  He  was  always  shy  after- 
wards, very  seldom  spoke,  unless  he  was  spoken  to,  except 


PITCH    VARIATION  79 

to  a  very  few  friends.  He  lighted  up  occasionally,  but  gen- 
erally he  had  the  nervous,  tired  look  of  a  heart-wounded  man. 

TiU  he  grew  very  old,  he  went  aloft  a  great  deal.  He 
always  kept  up  his  exercise  ;  and  I  never  heard  that  he  was 
ill.  If  any  other  man  was  ill,  he  was  the  kindest  nurse  in 
the  world ;  and  he  knew  more  than  half  the  surgeons  do. 
Then  if  anybody  was  sick  or  died,  or  if  the  captain  wanted 
him  to,  on  any  other  occasion,  he  was  always  ready  to  read 
prayers.    I  have  said  that  he  read  beautifully. 

My  own  acquaintance  with  Philip  Nolan  began  six  or 
eight  years  after  the  English  war,  on  my  first  voyage  after 
I  was  appointed  a  midsbipman.  It  was  in  the  first  days 
after  our  Slave-Trade  treaty,  while  the  Reigning  House, 
which  was  still  the  House  of  Virginia,  had  still  a  sort  of 
sentimentalism  about  the  suppression  of  the  horrors  of  the 
Middle  Passage,  and  something  was  sometimes  done  that 
way.    We  were  in  the  South  Atlantic  on  that  business. 

I  first  came  to  understand  anjiihing  about  "the  man 
without  a  country  "  one  day  when  we  overhauled  a  dirty 
little  schooner  which  had  slaves  on  board.  An  officer  was 
sent  to  take  charge  of  her,  and,  after  a  few  minutes,  he  sent 
back  his  boat  to  ask  that  some  one  might  be  sent  him  who 
could  speak  Portuguese.  Nolan  stepped  out  and  said  he 
shoidd  be  glad  to  interpret,  if  the  captain  wished,  as  he 
understood  the  language.  The  captain  thanked  him,  fitted 
out  another  boat  with  him,  and  in  this  boat  it  was  my  luck 
to  go. 

When  we  got  there,  it  was  such  a  scene  as  you  seldom  see 
and  never  want  to.  Nastiness  beyond  account,  and  chaos  run 
loose  in  the  midst  of  the  nastiness.  There  were  not  a  great 
many  of  the  negroes ;  but  by  way  of  making  what  there 
were  understand  that  they  were  free,  Vaughan  had  had 
their  hand-cuffs  and  ankle-cuffs  knocked  off,  and,  for  con- 
venience' sake,  was  putting  them  upon  the  rascals  of  the 
schooner's  crew. 

As  we  came  on  deck,  Vaughan  looked  down  from  a  hogs- 
head, on  which  he  had  mounted  in  desperation,  and  said  :  — 

"  For  God's  love,  is  there  anybody  who  can  make  these 
wretches  understand  something  ?  " 


80  ORAL  READING 

Nolan  said  he  could  a})eak  Portuguese,  and  one  or  two 
fini'-lookinjr  Kroonien  were  dvaj^ged  out,  who,  as  it  had  been 
found  already,  had  worked  fm-  ihe  Portuguese  on  the  coast 
at  Fernando  Po. 

"  Tell  them  they  are  free,"  said  Vauglian ;  "  and  tell 
thein  that  these  rascals  are  to  be  hanged  as  soon  as  we  can 
get  rope  enough." 

Nolan  "put  that  into  Spanish,"  —  that  is,  he  explained 
it  in  such  Portuguese  as  the  Kroonien  could  understand,  and 
they  in  turn  to  such  of  the  negroes  as  could  understand 
them.  Then  there  was  a  yell  of  delight,  clinching  of  fists, 
leaping  and  dancing,  kissing  of  Nolan's  feet,  and  a  general 
rush  made  to  the  liogshead  by  way  of  spontaneous  worship 
of  Vaughan. 

"Tell  them,"  said  Vanghan,  well  pleased,  "that  I  will 
take  them  all  to  Cape  Palmas." 

This  did  not  answer  so  well.  Cape  Palmas  was  prac- 
tically as  far  from  the  homes  of  most  of  them  as  New 
Orleans  or  Rio  Janeiro  was ;  that  is,  they  would  be  eter- 
nally separated  from  home  there.  And  their  interpreters, 
as  we  could  understand,  instantly  said,  "  Ah,  non  Palmas.** 
The  drops  stood  on  poor  Nolan's  white  forehead,  as  he 
hushed  the  men  down,  and  said:  — 

"  He  says,  '  Not  Palmas.'  He  says, '  Take  us  home,  take 
us  to  our  own  country,  take  us  to  our  own  house,  take  us 
to  our  own  pickaninnies  and  our  own  women.'  He  says  he 
has  an  old  fatlier  and  mother  who  will  die  if  they  do  not 
see  him.  And  this  one  says  he  left  his  people  all  sick,  and 
paddled  dow^i  to  Fernando  to  beg  the  white  doctor  to  come 
and  help  them,  and  that  these  devils  caught  him  in  the  bay 
just  in  sight  of  home,  and  that  he  has  never  seen  anybody 
from  home  since  then.  And  tliis  one  says,"  choked  out 
Nolan,  "  that  he  has  not  heard  a  word  from  his  home  in  six 
months,  while  he  has  been  locked  up  in  an  infernal  bar- 
racoon." 

Vaughan  always  said  he  grew  gray  himself  while  Nolan 
struggled  through  this  interpretation.  I,  who  did  not  under- 
stand anything  of  the  passion  involved  in  it,  saw  that  the 
very  elements  were  melting  with  fervent  heat,  and  that 


PITCH  VARIATION  31 

something  was  to  pay  somewhere.  Even  the  negroes  tliem- 
selves  stopped  howling,  as  they  saw  Nolan's  agony,  and 
Vaughan's  almost  equal  agony  of  sympathy.  As  quick  as  he 
could  get  words,  he  said  :  — 

"  TeU  them  yes,  yes,  yes  ;  tell  them  they  shall  go  to  the 
Mountains  of  the  Moon,  if  they  will  If  I  sail  the  schooner 
through  the  Great  White  Desert,  they  shall  go  home ! " 

And  after  some  fashion  Nolan  said  so.  And  then  they 
all  fell  to  kissing  him  again,  ^and  wanted  to  rub  his  nose 
with  theirs. 

But  he  could  rot  stand  it  long;  and  getting  Vaughan  to 
say  he  might  go  back,  he  beckoned  me  down  into  our  boat. 
As  we  lay  back  in  the  stern-sheets  and  the  men  gave  way, 
lie  said  to  me  :  "  Youngster,  let  that  show  you  what  it  is 
to  be  without  a  family,  without  a  home,  and  without  a  coun- 
try. And  if  you  are  ever  tempted  to  say  a  word  or  to  do  a 
thing  that  shall  put  a  bar  between  you  and  your  family, 
your  home,  and  your  country,  pray  God  in  his  mercy  to 
take  you  that  instant  home  to  His  own  heaven.  Stick  by 
your  family,  boy ;  forget  you  have  a  self,  while  you  do 
everything  for  them.  Think  of  your  home,  boy;  write  ancJ 
send,  and  talk  about  it.  Let  it  be  nearer  and  nearer  to  youl 
thought,  the  farther  you  have  to  travel  from  it ;  and  rush 
back  to  it  when  you  are  free,  as  that  poor  black  slave  is 
doing  now.  And  for  your  country,  boy,"  and  the  words 
rattled  in  his  throat,  "  and  for  that  flag,"  and  he  pointed 
to  the  ship,  "  never  dream  a  dream  but  of  serving  her  as  she 
bids  you,  though  the  service  carry  you  through  a  thousand 
hells.  No  matter  what  happens  to  you,  no  matter  who  flat- 
ters you  or  who  abuses  you,  never  look  at  another  flag, 
never  let  a  night  pass  but  you  pray  God  to  bless  that  flag. 
Remember,  boy,  that  behind  all  tliese  men  you  have  to  do 
with,  behind  officers,  and  government,  and  people  even, 
there  is  the  Country  Herself,  your  Country,  and  that  you 
belong  to  Her  as  you  belong  to  your  own  mother.  Stand 
by  Her,  boy,  as  you  would  stand  by  your  mother,  if  those 
devils  there  had  got  hold  of  her  to-day !  " 

After  this  cruise  I  never  saw  Nolan  again.  The  other  men 
told  me  that  in  those  fifteen  years  he  aged  very  fast-  as  well 


82  ORAL  READING 

he  mitjht  indeed,  but  that  he  was  still  the  same  gentle,  un- 
coniplaiiiinij,  silent  sufferer  that  he  ever  was,  bearing  as  best 
he  could  his  self-ai)pointed  j)unishnient.  And  now  it  seems 
tlie  dear  oUl  feUow  is  dead.  He  has  found  a  home  at  last, 
and  a  country. 

Since  writing  this,  and  while  considering  whether  or  no  I 
would  print  it,  as  a  warning  to  the  young  Nolans  and  Val- 
landighams  and  Tatnalls  of  to-day  of  what  it  is  to  throw 
away  a  country,  I  have  received  a  letter  which  gives  an  ac- 
count of  Nolan's  last  hours.  It  removes  all  my  doubts  about 
telling  this  story.  Here  is  the  conclusion  of  the  letter :  — 

But  in  an  hour,  when  the  doctor  went  in  gently,  he  found  Nolan  had 
breathed  his  life  away  with  a  smile.  He  had  something  pressed  close 
to  his  lips.  It  was  his  father's  badge  of  the  Order  of  the  Cincinnati. 

We  looked  in  his  Bible,  and  there  was  a  slip  of  paper  at  the  place 
■where  he  had  marked  the  text :  — 

"They  desire  a  country,  even  a  heavenly:  wherefore  God  is  not 
ashamed  to  be  called  their  God  :  for  He  hath  prepared  for  them  a  city." 

On  this  slip  of  paper  he  had  written :  — 

"  Bury  me  in  the  sea  ;  it  has  been  my  home,  and  I  love  it.  But  will 
not  some  one  set  up  a  stone  for  my  memory  at  Fort  Adams  or  at 
Orleans,  that  my  disgrace  may  not  be  more  than  I  ought  to  bear  ?  Say 
on  it :  — 

^''  In  Memory  of 

"PHILIP  NOLAN, 

"  Lieutenant  in  the  Army  of  the  United  States. 

"  He  loved  his  country  as  no  other  man  has  loved 
her  ;  but  no  man  deserved  less  at  her  hands."  ^ 

1  Used   with  the  kind  permission  of  the  publishers.  Little,  Brown  and 
Company. 


CHAPTER  IV 

EMPHASIS 

i6.  The  cause  of  emjjhasis 
As  grouping  and  pitch  variation  are  the  result  of 
thought,  so  thinking  determines  emphasis.  Words  are  given 
prominence  according  as  they  serve  to  reveal  the  precise 
meaning  the  speaker  wishes  them  to  convey.  Observe  the 
different  meanings  brought  out  by  shifting  the  emphasis  in 
the  following  sentence :  — 

/  told  you  so.   (It  was  I,  not  anotlier,  who  told  you.) 
I  told  you  so.   (You  did  n't  tell  me.) 

I  told  you  so !   (It 's    happened  just   as  I  expected,  but  you 
would  n't  believe  me.) 

17.  Methods  of  emj^hasis 
The  term  "emphasis"  is  often  thought  of  in  a  limited 
sense  as  referring  merely  to  the  added  vocal  force  applied 
to  a  word  to  give  it  prominence ;  but  there  are  several 
means  of  emphasis,  of  which  vocal  force,  or  loudness,  is 
perhaps  the  least  important.  The  setting  out  of  particular 
words  is  effected  in  several  ways,  namely :  by  Inflection, 
Change  of  Pitch,i  Pause,  Force,  and  Prolongation  of  Ac- 
cented Vowels.  2 

1  See  pap^es  .52-55,  sections  10  and  11,  for  discussion  of  Inflection  and 
Change  of  Pitch  as  means  of  emphasis. 

^  In  ordinary,  spirited  utterance  all  these  forms  of  emphasis  frequently 
occur  together  on  one  word,  and  rarely  is  emphasis  of  a  word  confined  to  one 
form  only.  But  in  reading  aloud  and  formal  speaking  there  is  a  strong  tend- 
ency to  limit  emphasis  to  one  or  two  oft-repeated  forms.  This  is  one  of  the 
reasons  why  reading  and  public  speaking  often  seem  unnatural,  stilted,  or 
monotonous.  In  this  chapter  the  different  means  of  emphasis  are  considert-d 
separately  in  order  to  demonstrate  that  we  do  emphasize  words  in  other  vxiys 
than  by  force  alone,  and  to  ofFer  exercise  in  each  that  may  help  to  extend  the 
use  of  all  conversational  means  of  emphasis  to  the  expression  of  tbouglit  in 
reading  aloud  and  formal  public  speaking. 


84  OR.\L  READING 

I.  Emphasis  by  pause.  A  word  or  phrase  is  often  made 
enipluitic  by  a  pause,  which  pause  may  occur  either  before 
or  after  the  word  it  sets  out.  Kead  aloutl  the  lines  quoted 
below  from  Longfellow's  Kinxj  Robert  of  Sicily,  in  which 
is  described  the  action  of  the  king  when  he  finds  himself 
imprisoned  at  night  in  the  deserted  church.  First  read  the 
lines  without  pauses  or  very  strict  attention  to  their  sig- 
nificance ;  then  picture  the  situation,  imagine  the  state  of 
mind  of  the  king  as  you  describe  his  acts,  read  the  sen- 
tence with  definite  pauses,  as  indicated  by  the  dashes,  and 
note  how  the  pauses  add  emphasis  and  make  the  thought 
and  situation  clear  and  vivid. 

He  groped  towards  the  door,  —  but  it  was  locked  ;  — 
He  cried  aloud,  —  then  listened,  —  and  Xhen  knocked. 

In  reading  aloud,  the  value  of  pause  is  often  ignored, 
chiefly  because  the  thought  value  of  words  is  ignored. 
When  the  thought  of  the  printed  page  becomes  the  clear, 
vivid  thought  of  the  reader,  and  when  the  desire  to  com- 
municate it  is  definite  and  strong,  pauses  are  frequent  and 
natural.  Time  given  to  words  is  one  way  of  measuring  the 
ideas  they  stand  for.  It  also  gives  the  speaker  and  the  lis- 
tener opportunity  to  consider  what  is  spoken. 

The  quotations  below  offer  good  illustrations  of  emphatio 
pause. 

And  yet  Scrooge,  having  his  key  in  the  lock  of  the  door,  saw  in 
the  knocker,  without  its  undergoing  any  immediate  process  of 
change,  not  —  a  knocker,  but  —  M arleif  s  face. 

Dickens :   Christmxis  Carol. 

And  besides  this,  giving  all  diligence,  add  to  your  faith  — 
virtue  ;  and  to  virtue  —  knowledge  ;  and  to  knowledge  —  tem- 
perance ;  and  to  temperance  —  patience;  and  to  patience  —  god- 
liness ;  and  to  godliness  —  brotherly  kindness ;  and  to  brotherly 
kindness  —  charity." 

II  Peter,  i. 


EMPHASIS  85 

2.  Emphasis  by  vocal  force. i  While  the  emphasis  by 
pause  seems  to  be  more  usually  confined  to  particular  words 
and  phrases,  vocal  force,  in  conjunction  with  inflections, 
not  only  helps  to  make  individual  words  emphatic,  but  it  is 
also  instrumental  in  showing  the  logical  relation  of  inter- 
dependent ideas. 2  Thus  :  — 

Whoever  hath  meant  good  work  with  his  whole  heart  hath 
done  good  work,  whether  he  lived  to  sign  it  or  not. 

Emphasis  by  a  slight  increase  of  vocal  force,  in  conjunc- 
tion with  pronounced  inflection  and  change  of  pitch,  is 
illustrated  in  the  lines  from  the  Merchant  of  Venice  (v,  i} 
quoted  below :  — 

Portia.  Music!  Hark! 

Nerissa.  It  is  your  music,  madam,  of  the  house. 

Portia.     Nothing  is  good,  I  see,  without  respect ; 

Methinks  it  sounds  much  sweeter  than  by  day. 

Nerissa.  Silence  bestows  that  virtue  on  it,  madam. 

Portia.     The  crow  doth  sing  as  sweetly  as  the  lark 
When  neither  is  attended  ;  and  I  think 
The  nightingale,  if  she  should  sing  by  day, 
When  every  goose  is  cackling,  would  be  thought 
No  better  a  musician  than  the  wren. 

Sometimes  in  excited  commands,  exclamations  and  the 
like,  the  emphasis  is  largely  that  of  vocal  force :  — 

1  Emphasis  by  vocal  force  and  by  inflection  often  go  tog:ether,  and  what 
is  sometimes  taken  for  emphasis  by  added  force  is  chiefly  that  of  inflection. 
Little  drill  on  emphasis  by  loudness  is  needed.  The  important  thing'  is  to  rec- 
ognize the  relative  values  of  words  and  the  relation  of  ideas  to  each  other. 

2  The  added  vocal  force  usually  falls  on  the  accented  syllable  of  the  em- 
phatic word,  the  vowel  of  that  syllable  receiving  the  chief  stress.  An  excep- 
tion to  this  is  found  when  words,  differing  but  slightly  in  appearance  and  form, 
are  used  antithetically.  Tlie  emphasis  in  such  cases  falls  not  on  the  similar 
but  on  the  rfmimilar  syllables,  regardless  of  the  normal  accent  of  the  word, 
since  the  contrast  or  comparison  centers  in  these  syllables. 

One  arrives  at  his  conclusions  by  induction,  another  by  (/eduction. 

Is  he  honest  or  (//.shonest  ? 

Lovers  and  madmen  have  such  seething  brains, 
Such  sliapinjf  fantasies,  that  r/pprehend 
More  than  cool  reason  ever  comprehends. 


86  ORAL  READING 

*'  Halt !  "  —  the  dust-brown  ranks  stood  fast. 
^^  Fire!  "  —  out  blazed  the  ritle-blast. 

Whittier :  Barbara  Frietchie. 

Strike  —  till  the  last  armed  foe  expires; 
Strike  —  for  your  altars  and  your  lires  ; 
Strike  —  for  the  green  graves  of  youi"  sires, 
God  —  and  your  native  land  ! 

Halleck :  Marco  Bozzaris. 

3,  Emphasis  by  prolongation  of  accented  vowels.  Words 
are  given  prominence  by  prolonging  the  vowel  of  the  ac- 
cented syllable.  There  is  a  suspension  of  voice  on  the 
sound,  giving  the  effect  of  drav^^ing  out  the  tone.  Compare 
the  vowel  length  of  the  words  "all"  and  "going"  when 
emphasized  and  not  emphasized  in  rendering  the  following 
sentence.^ 

Are  you  all  going  ? 
Are  you  all  going? 

Note  in  the  subsequent  quotation  from  Dickens's  Christinas 
Carol  the  prolongation  of  vowels  of  the  accented  words  :  — 

"  How  noiv  !  "  said  Scrooge,  caustic  and  cold  as  ever. 

"  What  do  you  want  with  me  ?  " 

"  Mtich  !  "  —  Marley's  voice,  no  doubt  about  it. 

"  Who  are   you  ?  " 

"  Ask  me  who  I  ivas." 

"  Who  were  you  then  ?  " 

"  In  life  I  was  your  partner,  Jacob  Marley" 

"  Can  you  —  can  you  sit  down  ?  " 

« I  can." 

"  Do  it,  then." 

1  It  is  easy  to  overdo  this  form  of  emphasis  and  to  run  into  a  style  of  speech 
in  which  prolonged  vowels  are  more  evident  than  the  thought  spoken.  This 
mannerism  is  sometimes  heard  in  exliortation  when  the  speaker  abandons 
himself  to  aident,  emotional  appeal.  It  has  been  burlesqued  in  A  Georgia 
Sermon. 

"  After  commenting  upon  that  portion  of  Genesis  descriptive  of  the  flood, 
the  speaker  '  warmed  up  '  suddenly  and  broke  out  in  the  following  strains  : 
'  Yes,  my  brethren,  the  heavens  of  the  windows  was  opened-ah,  and  the 
floods  of  the  g-r-e-a-t  deep  kivered  the  waters-ah,  and  there  was  Shem,  and 
there  was  Ham,  and  there  was  Japheth-ah,  a-1-1 — a-gwine  into  the  ark-ah.'" 
(Anonymous.   See  Cumnock's  Choice  Readings,  p.  456.  1896  edition.) 


EMPHASIS  87 

1 8.    Value  of  the  study  of  emphasis 

Exercises  in  the  various  methods  of  emphasis,  explained 
and  illustrated  in  the  foregoing  pages,  are  valuable  means 
of  clarifying  the  thought  and  of  training  the  mind  and  voice 
to  work  together.  Careless,  vague  thinking  will  be  evident 
in  carelessly  placed  emphasis,  or  in  monotonous  speech  un- 
relieved by  significant  emphasis  of  any  kind.  On  the  other 
hand,  definite,  well-placed  emphasis  is  positive  evidence  of 
attention  and  understanding.  Good  expression  does  not  come 
by  chance. 

The  study  of  emphasis  is  useful  also  as  a  means  of  over- 
coming certain  mannerisms  and  faulty  habits.  It  often 
happens  that  persons  who  speak  or  read  with  evident  under- 
standing and  with  well  placed  emphasis,  are,  nevertheless, 
tedious  to  listen  to,  because  of  the  habitual  use  of  but  one 
or  two  forms  of  emphasis  to  the  exclusion  of  all  others.  It 
may  be  that  all  important  words  are  emphasized  by  the  fall 
of  the  voice  through  about  the  same  range  of  the  scale  in 
each  inflection,  or  that  words  are  given  prominence  by  vocal 
force  alone.  The  frequent  or  long-continued  repetition  of 
any  particular  modulation  of  the  voice,  which  tends  to  a 
dead  sameness  of  speech,  is  tiresome  and  taxing  to  the  lis- 
tener. In  spirited,  normal  utterance,  all  modulations  are 
combined  to  give  words  saliency.  It  is  this  variety  that 
gives  life  to  words  and  helps  to  keep  alive  the  listener's 
interest. 

Another  difficulty  encountered  by  the  plodding  or  over- 
careful  reader  —  over-careful  so  far  as  words  are  concerned 
—  is  that  of  attempting  to  give  every  word  a  place  of 
importance.' 

1  Emphasis  is  regarded  by  many  readers  as  the  all  important  thinp: ;  bnt  it 
is  really  the  least  important.  Any  untrained  voice  can  emphasize.  The  diffi- 
cult thing  to  do  well  is  the  opposite  of  emphasis  —  the  slighting  of  certain 


88  OllXL  RE.NDING 

The  fault  may  be  illustrated  thus  :  — 

Speak  the  speech,  I  jjrat/  you,  as  I  pronounced  it  to  you,  trip- 
piiKj/y  ou  the  tonyae. 

But  a  little  consideration  will  make  apparent  a  great 
dliVerence  between  this  style  of  speech  and  that  of  ordinaiy, 
direct  conversation.  lu  conversation  relatively  few  words 
are  emphasized.  The  act  of  thinking"  is  simple,  the  purpose 
of  speech  is  clear,  and  the  thought  of  a  phrase  is  frequently 
centered  in  but  one  word,  the  word  which  is  the  point  ot 
strongest  contact  between  the  thought  and  the  mind  of  the 
listener. 

(Simplify  the  emphasis  in  the  following  sentences :  — 

Who  overcomes 
By  force  hath  overcome  but  half  his  foe. 

Milton :  Paradise  Lost, 

Cowards  die  many  times  hefore  their  deaths  ; 
The  valiant  never  taste  of  death  but  once. 

Shakespeare  :  Julius  Ccesar,  il,  ii. 

This  was  the  noblest  Roman  of  them  all. 

Ibid. :  V,  T. 

The  voice  all  moods  oi  passion  can  express 
Which  marks  the  proj)er  word  with  proper  stress. 
But  none  emphatic  can  that  speaker  call 
Who  lays  an  equal  emphasis  on  all. 

Lloyd. 

Buliordinate  parts  of  discourse.  Whatever  is  sufficiently  implied,  or  sbonld 
be  taken  for  granted,  or  has  been  anticipated,  and,  in  short,  all  the  outstand- 
ing relations  of  the  main  movement  of  thought  and  feeling,  require  to  be 
Blighted  in  expression,  in  order  that  they  may  not  unduly  reduce  the  promi- 
nence and  distinction  of  the  main  movement.  Only  the  well  trained  voice  can 
manage  properly  the  backgroiind  of  wliat  is  presented  ;  and  if  the  back- 
ground is  properly  managed,  the  foreground  will  generally  have  the  requisite 
distinctness.  When  .a  reader  endeavors  to  make  everything  tell,  he  makes 
nothing  tell.  Ambitious  reading  often  defeats  its  own  end.  (Corson :  The  Aims 
of  Literary  Study,  p.  123.  Copyright,  1804,  by  The  Macmillan  Company. 
Used  with  the  kind  permission  of  the  publishers.) 


EMPHASIS  89 

PROBLEMS   IN   EMPHASIS 

The  selections  for  practice  should  be  studied  with  refer- 
ence to  each  of  the  forms  of  emphasis.  Train  the  ear  by 
trying  to  distinguish  between  the  emphasis  by  force,  inflec- 
tion, change  of  pitch,  and  prolonging  of  the  accented  vowel. 
Which  predominates  in  reading  a  given  sentence  ?  Explain 
why  you  emphasize  certain  words  and  not  others  in  reading 
any  of  the  selections.  Try  shifting  emphasis  from  one  word 
to  another,  and  note  whether  the  sense  of  the  passage  is 
changed  or  obscured.  Can  you  bring  out  the  same  meaning 
by  emphasizing  different  words  in  a  line? 
].  General  problems 

1.  We  should  do  our  utmost  to  encourage  the  Beautiful,  for 
the  Useful  encourages  itself. 

Goethe. 

2.  Attention  is  the  mother  of  memory. 

Samuel  Johnson. 

3.  The  ball  no  question  makes  of  Ayes  and  Noes, 
But  Right  or  Left  as  strikes  the  player  goes. 

Fitzgerald  :  Bubdiyat. 

4.  All  things  were  held  in  common,  and  what  one  had  was 

anotJiers. 

Longfellow :  Evangeline. 

6.  Did  ye  not  hear  it  ?  —  No  ;  't  was  but  the  wind, 
Or  the  car  rattling  o'er  the  stony  street ; 
On  with  the  dance  !  let  joy  be  unconfined  ; 
No  sleep  till  morn,  when  Youth  and  Pleasure  meet 
To  chase  the  glowing  Hours  with  flying  feet  — 
But  hark  !  —  that  heavy  sound  breaks  in  once  more, 
As  if  the  clouds  its  echo  would  repeat ; 
And  nearer,  clearer,  deadlier  than  before  / 
Arm  !  A  rm  !  it  is  —  it  is  —  the  cannon's  opening  roar  ! 
Byron  :  Childe  Harold,  Canto  iii,  22. 


90  OR.\L  READING 

G.  The  dry  land  Earth,  and  tlie  great  receptacle 
Uf  congregated  waters  he  called  Seas. 

Milton  :  Paradise  Lost,  vil. 

7.  She  bore  a  mind  that  envy  could  not  hut  call  fair. 

Shakespeare :   Twelfth  Niyht,  ll,  i,  30. 

8.  One  calls  the  square  round,  'tother  the  round  square. 

Browning. 

9.  Hamlet.  Horatio,  —  or  I  do /br^'e^  myself . 

Horatio.  The  same,  my  lord,  and  your  poor  servant  ever. 
Hamlet.  Sir,  iny  good  friend  ;  I  change  that  name  with  you.* 

Shakespeare :  Hamlet,  i,  ii. 

10.  He  gave  to  misery  —  all  he  had  —  a  tear, 

He  gained  from  Heaven  —  't  was  all  he  wished  —  a  friend. 
_       >^,  Gray :  Elegy  in  a  Country  Churchyard. 

11.  The  first  of  all  English  games  is  making  money.  That  is  an 
all-absorbing  game ;  and  we  knock  each  other  down  oftener 
in  playing  at  that,  than  at  foot-ball,  or  any  other  roughest 
sport;  and  it  is  absolutely  without ^M?730se;  no  one  who  en- 
gages heartily  in  that  game  ever  knows  why.  Ask  a  great 
tnoney-maker  what  he  wants  to  do  with  his  money  —  he 
never  knoius.  He  does  n't  make  it  to  do  anything  with  it. 
He  gets  it  only  that  he  may  get  it.  "  What  will  you  make  of 
what  you  have  got  ?  "  you  ask.  "  Well,  I  '11  get  m,ore,"  he 
says.  Just  as,  at  cricket,  you  get  more  runs.  There  's  no  use 
in  the  runs,  but  to  get  m,ore  of  them  than  other  people  is  the 
game.  And  there  's  no  use  in  the  money,  but  to  have  more 
of  it  than  other  people  is  the  game.  Ruskin  :  Work. 

12.  I  could  be  well  mov''d,  if  I  were  as  you; 

If  I  could  pray  to  move,  prayers  would  move  me : 
But  /  am  constant,  as  the  northern  star. 
Of  whose  true-fix'd  and  resting  quality 
There  is  no  fellow  in  the  firmament. 

Shakespeare  :  Julius  Ccesar,  iii,  i. 

*  Note  how  the  meaninpr  of  this  line  is  made  clear  by  means  of  inflection 
and  change  of  pitch  on  "change"  and  by  added  force  on  "  that." 


EMPHASIS  91 

13.  But  now  abldeth  faith,  —  hope,  —  love,  —  these  three  ;  and 
the  greatest  of  these  —  is  love.        1  Corinthians,  xiii,  13. 

14.  The  little  Road  says  —  Go, 
The  little  House  says  —  Stay, 
And  O,  it 's  bonny  here  at  home, 
But  I  must  go  away. 

Peabody  :  The  House  and  the  Road. 

15.  Macbeth.  My  dearest  love, 
Duncan  comes  here  to-night. 

Lady  Macbeth.  And  when  —  goes  —  hence  ? 

Macbeth.  To-morrow  —  as  he  purposes. 

Shakespeare :  Macbeth,  i,  v. 

16.  It  is  written,  "  The  proper  study  of  mankind  is  man  ;  man 
is  perennially  interesting  to  man ;  nay,  if  we  look  strictly  to 
it,  there  is  nothing  else  interesting. 

Carlyle :  Essay  on  Biography. 

17.  If  I  were  an  American,  as  I  am  an  Englishman,  while  a 
foreign  troop  was  landed  in  my  country,  I  would  never  lay 
down  my  arms  —  Never — Never  —  Never  ! 

Chatham :  On  Affairs  in  America. 

18.  I  strove  with  none,  for  none  was  worth  my  strife. 

Nature  I  loved,  and,  next  to  Nature,  Art: 
I  warm'd  both  hands  before  the  fire  of  life ; 
It  sinks,  and  I  am  ready  to  depart. 

Landor :  Finis. 

19.  Antony  sought  for  happiness  in  love ;  Brutus  in  glory ;  Csesar 
in  dominion  ;  the  first  found  disgrace,  the  second  disgust,  the 
last  ingratitude,  and  each  destruction. 

Lubbock :  The  Pleasures  of  Life. 

20.  .  .  .  For  my  part,  I  can  see  few  things  more  desirable,  after 
the  possession  of  sucli  radical  qualities  as  honour  and  humour 
and  pathos,  than  to  have  a  lively  and  not  a  stolid  counte- 
nance ;  to  have  looks  to  correspond  with  every  feeling ;  to  be 


»2  ORAL  READING 

elegant  and  delightful  in  person,  so  that  we  shall  please  even 
in  the  iutorvals  of  active  pleasing,  and  may  never  discredit 
speech  with  uncouth  manners  or  hecome  consciously  our  own 
burlesques.  But  of  all  unfortunates  there  is  one  creature  (for 
I  will  not  call  him  man)  conspicuous  in  misfortune.  This  is 
he  who  has  forfeited  his  hirthriglit  of  expression,  who  has 
cultivated  artful  intonations,  who  has  taught  his  face  tricks, 
like  a  pet  monkey,  and  on  every  side  perverted  or  cut  off  his 
means  of  communication  with  his  fellow-men.  The  body  is  a 
house  of  many  windows :  there  we  all  sit,  showing  ourselves 
and  crying  on  the  passers-by  to  come  and  love  us.  But  this 
fellow  has  filled  his  windows  with  opaque  glass,  elegantly 
coloured.  His  house  may  be  admired  for  its  design,  the  crowd 
may  pause  before  the  stained  windows,  but  meanwhile  the 
poor  proprietor  must  lie  languishing  within,  uncomforted, 
unchangeably  alone. 

Stevenson :  The  Truth  of  Intercoiirse} 

21.        Count.  Come,  come,  Filippo,  what  is  there  in  the  larder  ? 

Filippo.  Shelves  and  hooks,  shelves  and  hooks,  and  when 
I  see  the  shelves  I  am  like  to  hang  myself  on  the  hooks. 

Count.  No  bread  ? 

Filippo.  Half  a  breakfast  for  a  rat. 

Count.  Milk? 

Filippo.  Three  laps  for  a  cat. 

Count.  Cheese  ? 

Filippo.  A  supper  for  twelve  mites. 

Count.  Eggs  ? 

Filippo.  One,  but  addled. 

Count.  No  bird  ? 

Filippo.  Half  a  tit  and  a  hern's  bill. 

Count.  Let  be  thy  jokes  and  the  jerks,  man !  Anything  oi 
nothing  ? 

Filippo.  Well,  my  lord,  if  all-but-nothing  be  anything,  and 
one  plate  of  dried  prunes  be  all-but-nothing,  then  there  is 
anything  in  your  lordship's  larder  at  your  lordship's  service, 
if  your  lordship  care  to  call  for  it. 

Tennyson :   The  Falcon. 

2  Used  with  the  kind  permission  of  the  publishers,  Charles  Scribner's  Sons. 


EMPHASIS  93 

22.  He  who  ascends  to  mountain-tops,  shall  find 

The  loftiest  peaks  most  wrapt  in  clouds  and  snow ; 
He  who  surpasses  or  subdues  mankind, 
Must  look  down  on  tlie  hate  of  those  below. 
Though  high  above  the  sun  of  glory  glow, 
And  far  beneath  the  earth  and  ocean  spread, 
Round  him  are  icy  rocks,  and  loudly  blow 
Contending  tempests  on  his  naked  head. 
And  thus  reward  the  toils  which  to  those  summits  led. 
Byron  :   Childe  Harold,  Canto  iii,  xlv. 

23.  There  was  a  certain  elderly  gentleman  who  lived  in  a  court 
of  the  Temple,  and  was  a  great  judge  and  lover  of  port  wine. 
Every  day  he  dined  at  his  club  and  drank  his  bottle  or  two 
of  port  wine,  and  every  night  came  home  to  the  Temple 
and  went  to  bed  in  his  lonely  chambers.  This  had  gone  on 
many  years  without  variation,  when  one  niglit  he  had  a  fit  on 
coming  home,  and  fell  and  cut  his  head  deep,  but  partly 
recovered  and  groped  about  in  the  dark  to  find  the  door. 
When  he  was  afterwards  discovered,  dead,  it  was  clearly 
established  by  the  marks  of  his  hands  about  the  room  that  he 
must  have  done  so.  Now,  this  chanced  on  the  night  of  Christ- 
mas Eve,  and  over  him  lived  a  young  fellow  who  had  sisters 
and  young  country  friends,  and  who  gave  them  a  little  party 
that  night,  in  the  course  of  which  they  played  at  Blindman's 
Buff.  They  played  that  game,  for  their  greater  sport,  by  the 
light  of  the  tire  only ;  and  once,  when  they  were  all  quietly 
rustling  and  stealing  about,  and  the  blindman  was  trying  to 
pick  out  the  prettiest  sister  (for  which  I  am  far  from  blam- 
ing him) ,  somebody  cried,  "  Hark  !  The  man  below  must  be 
playing  Blindman's  Buff  by  himself  to-night !  "  They  listened, 
and  they  heard  sounds  of  some  one  falling  about  and  stum- 
bling against  furniture,  and  they  all  laughed  at  the  conceit, 
and  went  on  with  their  play,  more  light-hearted  and  merry 
than  ever.  Tims,  those  two  so  different  games  of  life  and 
death  were  played  out  together,  blindfolded,  in  the  two  sets 
of  chambers. 

Dickens  :  TJte  Uncommercial  Traveller,  chap.  xrv. 


94  ORAL  RE.VDING 

24.  Jaques.  All  the  world  's  a  stage, 

And  all  the  men  and  women  merely  players. 
Thoy  have  tlioir  exits  and  their  entrances; 
And  one  man  in  his  time  plays  many  parts, 
His  acts  hi'ing  seven  ages.  At  lirst  the  infant. 
Mewling  and  puking  in  the  nurse's  arms. 
Then  the  whining  school-hoy,  with  his  satchel 
And  shining  morning  face,  creeping  like  snail 
Unwillingly  to  school.  And  then  the  lover, 
Sighing  like  furnace,  with  a  woeful  hallad 
Made  to  his  mistress'  eyebrow.  Then  a  soldier, 
Full  of  strange  oaths,  and  bearded  like  the  pard, 
Jealous  in  honor,  sudden  and  quick  in  quarrel, 
Seeking  the  bubble  reputation 

Even  in  the  cannon's  moutli.  And  then  the  justice, 
In  fair  round  belly  with  good  capon  lin'd, 
With  eyes  severe,  and  beard  of  formal  cut, 
Full  of  wise  saws  and  modern  instances ; 
And  so  he  plays  his  part.  The  sixth  age  shifts 
Into  the  lean  and  slipper'd  pantaloon. 
With  spectacles  on  nose  and  pouch  on  side, 
His  youthful  hose,  well  sav'd,  a  world  too  wide 
For  his  shrunk  shank  ;  and  his  big  manly  voice, 
Turning  again  toward  childish  treble,  pipes 
And  whistles  in  his  sound.  Last  scene  of  all, 
That  ends  this  strange  eventful  history. 
Is  second  childishness  and  mere  oblivion. 
Sans  teeth,  sans  eyes,  sans  taste,  sans  everything. 

Shakespeare  :  As  You  Like  It,  ii,  vii. 

25.  Great  honors  are  gi'eat  burdens,  but  on  whom 
They  are  cast  with  envy,  he  doth  bear  two  loads. 
His  cares  must  still  be  double  to  his  joys, 

In  any  dignity  ;  where,  if  he  err. 

He  finds  no  pardon :  and  for  doing  well 

A  most  small  praise,  and  that  wrung  out  by  force. 

Ben  Jonson  :   Catiline,  ill,  i. 

26.  A  man  is  not  strong  who  takes  convulsive-fits  ;  though  six 


EMPHASIS  95  ' 

men  cannot  hold  him  then.  He  that  can  walk  under  the 

heaviest  weight  without  staggering,  he  is  the  strong  man. 
We  need  forever,  especially  iu  these  loud-shrieking  days,  to 
remind  ourselves  of  that.  A  man  who  cannot  hold  his  peace, 
till  the  time  come  for  speaking  and  acting,  is  no  right  man. 
Carlyle  :  Rousseau  {Hero  Worship). 

27.  Old  Age,  this  is  Mr.  Professor ;  Mr.  Professor,  this  is 
Old  Age. 

Old  Age.  Mr.  Professor,  I  hope  to  see  you  well.  I  have 
known  you  for  some  time,  though  I  think  you  did  not  know 
me.  Shall  we  walk  down  the  street  together  ? 

Professor  (drawing  back  a  little).  We  can  talk  more 
quietly,  perhaps,  in  my  study.  Will  you  tell  me  how  it  is  you 
seem  to  be  acquainted  with  everybody  you  are  introduced 
to,  though  he  evidently  considers  you  an  entire  stranger  ? 

Old  Age.  I  make  it  a  rule  never  to  force  myself  upon  a 
person's  recognition  until  I  have  known  him  at  least  five 
years. 

Professor.  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  you  have  known  me 
so  long  as  that? 

Old  Age.  I  do.  I  left  my  card  on  you  longer  ago  than 
that,  but  I  am  afraid  you  never  read  it ;  yet  I  see  you  have 
it  with  you. 

Professor.  Where  ? 

Old  Age.  There,  between  your  eyebrows,  —  three  straight 
lines  running  up  and  down  ;  all  the  probate  courts  know  that 
token,  —  "  Old  Age,  his  mark." 

Professor.  What  message  do  people  generally  send  back 
when  you  first  call  on  them  ? 

Old  Age.  Not  at  home.  Then  I  leave  a  card  and  go. 
Next  year  I  call ;  get  the  same  answer  ;  leave  another  card. 
So  for  five  or  six,  —  sometimes  ten  years  or  more.  At  last, 
if  they  don't  let  me  in,  I  break  in  through  the  front  door  or 
the  windows. 

We  talked  together  in  this  way  some  time.  Then  Old 
Age  said  again,  —  Come,  let  us  walk  down  the  street  to- 
gether, —  and  offered  me  a  cane,  an  eye-glass,  a  tippet,  and 
a  pair  of  over-shoes.  No,  much  obliged  to  you,  said  I,  I 


96  ORAL  READING 

don't  want  those  things,  and  I  had  a  little  rather  talk  with 
you  here,  privately,  in  my  study.  So  I  dressed  myself  up 
in  a  jaunty  way  and  walked  out  alone  ;  —  got  a  fall,  caught 
a  cold,  was  laid  up  with  lumbago,  and  had  time  to  think 
over  this  whole  matter. 

Holmes:  Autocrat  of  the  Breakfast- Table. 


2.  For  general  reading 
THE  GIFT  OF  THE  MAGI 

O.  Henry 

28.  One  dollar  and  eighty-seven  cents.  That  was  all.  And  sixty 
cents  of  it  was  in  pennies.  Pennies  saved  one  and  two  at  a 
time  by  bulldozing  the  grocer  and  the  vegetable  man  and 
the  butcher  until  one's  cheeks  burned  with  the  silent  impu- 
tation of  parsimony  that  such  close  dealing  implied.  Three 
times  Delia  counted  it.  One  dollar  and  eighty-seven  cents. 
And  the  next  day  would  be  Christmas. 

There  was  clearly  nothing  to  do  but  flop  down  on  the  shabby 
little  couch  and  howl.  So  Delia  did  it.  Which  instigates  the 
moral  reflection  that  life  is  made  up  of  sobs,  sniffles,  and 
smiles,  with  sniffles  predominating. 

While  the  mistress  of  the  home  is  gradually  subsiding 
from  the  first  stage  to  the  second,  take  a  look  at  the  home. 
A  furnished  flat  at  eight  dollars  per  week.  It  did  not  ex- 
actly beggar  description,  but  it  certainly  had  that  word  on 
the  lookout  for  the  mendicancy  squad. 

In  the  vestibule  below  was  a  letter-box  into  which  no  let- 
ter would  go,  and  an  electric  button  from  which  no  mortal 
finger  could  coax  a  ring.  Also  appertaining  thereunto  was 
a  card  bearing  the  name  "  Mr.  James  Dillingham  Young." 

Delia  finished  her  cry  and  attended  to  her  cheeks  with 
the  powder  rag.  She  stood  by  the  window  and  looked  out 
duUy  at  a  gray  cat  walking  a  gray  fence  in  a  gray  back  yard. 
To-morrow  would  be  Christmas  Day,  and  she  had  only  one 
dollar  and  eighty-seven  cents  with  which  to  buy  Jini  a  present. 
She  had  been  saving  every  penny  slie  could  for  months, 
with  this  result.  Twenty  dollars  a  week  does  n't  go  far.  Ex- 


EMPHASIS  97 

penses  had  been  greater  than  she  had  calculated.  They  always 
are.  Only  one  dollar  and  eighty-seven  cents  to  buy  a  present 
for  Jim.  Her  Jim.  Manya  happy  hour  she  had  spent  planning 
for  something  nice  for  him.  Something  fine  and  rare  and 
sterling  —  something  just  a  little  bit  near  to  being  worthy 
of  the  honor  of  being  owned  by  Jim. 

There  was  a  pier-glass  between  the  windows  of  the  room. 
Perhaps  you  have  seen  a  pier-glass  in  an  eight-dollar  flat. 
A  very  thin  and  very  agile  person  may,  by  observing  his  re- 
flection in  a  rapid  sequence  of  longitudinal  strips,  obtain  a 
fairly  accurate  conception  of  his  looks.  Delia,  being  slender, 
had  mastered  the  art. 

Suddenly  she  whirled  from  the  window  and  stood  before 
the  glass.  Her  eyes  were  shining  brilliantly,  but  her  face 
had  lost  its  color  within  twenty  seconds.  Rapidly  she  pulled 
down  her  hair  and  let  it  fall  to  its  full  length. 

Now,  there  were  two  possessions  of  the  James  Dilling- 
ham Youngs  in  which  they  both  took  a  mighty  pride.  One 
was  Jim's  gold  watch  that  had  been  his  fathers  and  his 
grandfather's.  The  other  was  Delia's  hair.  Had  the  Queen 
of  Sheba  lived  in  the  flat  across  the  airshaft,  Delia  would 
have  let  her  hair  hang  out  the  window  some  day  to  dry  just 
to  depreciate  Her  Majesty's  jewels  and  gifts.  Had  King 
Solomon  been  the  janitor,  with  all  his  treasures  piled  up  in 
the  basement,  Jim  would  have  pulled  out  his  watch  every 
time  he  passed,  just  to  see  him  pluck  at  his  beard  from 
envy. 

So  now  Delia's  beautiful  hair  fell  about  her,  rippling  and 
shining  like  a  cascade  of  brown  waters.  It  reached  below 
her  knee  and  made  itself  almost  a  garment  for  her.  And 
then  she  did  it  up  again  nervously  and  quickly.  Once  she 
faltered  for  a  minute  and  stood  still  while  a  tear  or  two 
splashed  on  the  worn  red  carpet. 

On  went  her  old  brown  jacket ;  on  went  her  old  brown 
hat.  With  a  whirl  of  skirts  and  with  the  brilliant  s])arkle 
still  in  her  eyes,  she  fluttered  out  the  door  and  down  the 
stairs  to  tlie  street.  . 

Where  she  stopped  the  sign  read  :  "  Mme.  Sofronie.  Hair 
Goods  of  All  Kinds."    One  flight  up  Delia  ran,  and  col- 


98  ORAL  READING 

lected  herself,  panting.  Madame,  large,  too  white,  chilly, 
hurdly  looked  the  "  iSofroiiie." 

"  Will  you  buy  my  hair?  "  asked  Delia. 

"I  buy  liair,"  said  Madame.  "Take  yer  hat  off  and 
let 's  have  a  sight  at  the  looks  of  it." 

Down  rippled  the  brown  cascade. 

"  Twenty  dollars,"  said  Madame,  lifting  the  mass  with  a 
practiced  hand. 

'*  Give  it  to  r.io  (juick,"  said  Delia. 

Oh,  and  the  next  two  hours  tripped  hy  on  rosy  wings. 
Forget  the  hashed  metaphor.  She  was  ransacking  the  stores 
for  Jim's  present. 

She  found  it  at  last.  It  surely  had  been  made  for  Jim 
And  no  one  else.  There  was  no  other  like  it  in  any  of  the 
stores,  and  she  had  turned  all  of  them  inside  out.  It  was 
a  platinum  fob  chain  simple  and  chaste  in  design,  properly 
proclaiming  its  value  by  substance  alone  and  not  by  mere- 
tricious ornamentation  —  as  all  good  things  should  do.  It 
was  even  worthy  of  The  Watch.  As  soon  as  she  saw  it  sJtie 
knew  that  it  must  be  Jim's.  It  was  like  him.  Quietness  and 
value  —  the  description  applied  to  both.  Twenty-one  dollars 
they  took  from  her  for  it,  and  site  hurried  home  with  the 
eighty-seven  cents.  With  that  chain  on  his  watch  Jim 
might  be  properly  anxious  about  the  time  in  any  company. 
Grand  as  the  watch  was,  he  sometimes  looked  at  it  on  the 
sly  on  account  of  the  old  leather  strap  that  he  used  in  place 
of  a  chain. 

When  Delia  reached  home  her  intoxication  gave  way  a 
little  to  prudence  and  reason.  She  got  out  her  curling-irons 
and  lighted  the  gas  and  went  to  work  repairing  the  ravages 
made  by  generosity  added  to  love.  Which  is  always  a  tre- 
mendous task,  dear  friends  —  a  mammoth  task. 

Within  forty  minutes  her  head  was  covered  with  tiny, 
close-lying  curls  that  made  her  look  wonderfully  like  a 
truant  school-boy. '  She  looked  at  her  reflection  in  the  mirror 
long,  carefully,  and  critically. 

"  If  Jim  doesn't  kill  me,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  before  he 
takes  a  second  look  at  me,  he  '11  say  I  look  like  a  Coney 
Island  chorus  girl.  But  what  could  I  do — -oh!  what  could 
I  do  with  a  dollar  and  eighty-seven  cents  ?  " 


ElVIPHASIS  99 

At  seven  o'clock  the  coffee  was  made  and  the  frying-pan 
was  on  the  back  of  the  stove  hot  and  ready  to  cook  the  chops. 

Jim  was  never  late.  Delia  doubled  the  fob  chain  in  her 
hand  and  sat  on  the  corner  of  the  table  near  the  door  that 
he  alwr\3  entered.  Then  she  heard  his  step  on  the  stair 
away  down  on  the  first  flight,  and  she  turned  white  for  just 
a  moment.  She  had  a  habit  of  saying  little  silent  prayers 
ah  -ut  the  simplest  everyday  things,  and  now  '^<  ^  whispered  : 
"  Please  God,  make  him  think  I  am  still  pretty." 

'ihe  door  opened  and  Jim  stepped  in  and  closed  it.  He 
look  fid  thin  and  v^ry  serious.  Poor  fellow,  he  was  only 
twenty-two  —  and  to  be  burdened  with  a  family  !  He  needed 
a  new  overcoat  and  he  was  without  gloves. 

Jim  stopped  inside  the  door,  as  immovable  as  a  setter  at 
the  scent  of  quail.  His  eyes  were  fixed  upon  Delia,  and 
there  was  an  expression  in  them  that  she  could  not  read, 
and  it  terrified  her.  It  was  not  anger,  nor  surprise,  nor  dis- 
approval, nor  horror,  nor  any  of  the  sentiments  that  she 
had  been  prepared  for.  He  simply  stared  at  her  fixedly 
with  that  peculiar  expression  on  his  face. 

Delia  wriggled  off  the  table  and  went  for  him. 

"  Jim,  darling,"  she  cried,  "  don't  look  at  me  that  way. 
I  had  my  hair  cut  off  and  sold  it  because  I  could  n't  have 
lived  through  Christmas  without  giving  you  a  present.  It  '11 
grow  out  again  —  you  won't  mind,  will  you  ?  I  just  had 
to  do  it.  My  hair  grows  awfully  fast.  Say  '  Merry  Christ- 
mas ! '  Jim,  and  let  's  be  happy.  You  don't  know  what  a  nice 
—  what  a  beautiful,  nice  gift  I  've  got  for  you." 

"  You  've  cut  off  your  hair  ?  "  asked  Jim,  laboriously,  as 
if  he  had  not  arrived  at  that  patent  fact  yet  even  after 
the  hardest  mental  labor. 

"  Cut  it  off  and  sold  it,"  said  Delia.  "  Don't  you  like  me 
just  as  well,  anyhow  ?  " 

Jim  looked  about  the  room  curiously. 

"  You  say  your  hair  is  gone  ? "  he  said,  with  an  air 
almost  of  idiocy. 

"  You  need  n't  look  for  it,"  said  Delia.  "  It 's  sold,  I  tell 
you  —  sold  and  gone,  too.  It 's  Chrismas  Eve,  boy.  Be 
good  to  me,  for  it  went  for  you.    Maybe  the  hairs  of  my 


i 


100  ORAL  READING 

head  were  numbered,"  she  went  on  with  a  sudden  serious 
sweetness,  "  but  nobody  could  ever  count  my  love  for  you. 
Shall  I  put  tlie  chops  on,  Jim  ?  " 

Out  of  his  trance  Jiui  seemed  to  quickly  wake.  He  en- 
folded his  Delia.  For  ten  seconds  let  us  regard  with  discreet 
scrutiny  some  inconsequential  object  in  the  other  direction, 
'■iiyro  Eight  dollars  a  week  or  a  million  a  year  —  what  is  the  dif- 
ference ?  A  mathematician  or  a  wit  would  give  you  the 
wrong  answer.  The  magi  brought  valuable  gifts,  but  that 
was  not  among  them.  This  dark  assertion  will  be  illumi- 
nated later  on. 

Jim  drew  a  package  from  his  overcoat  pocket  and  threw 
it  upon  the  table. 

"  Don't  make  any  mistake,  Dell,"  he  said,  "  about  me.  I 
don't  think  there  's  anything  in  the  way  of  a  haircut  or  a 
shave  or  a  shampoo  that  could  make  me  like  my  girl  any 
less.  But  if  you  '11  unwrap  that  package  you  may  see  why 
you  had  me  going  a  while  at  first." 

White  fingers  and  nimble  tore  at  the  string  and  paper. 
And  then  an  ecstatic  scream  of  joy  ;  and  then,  alas  !  a  quick 
feminine  change  to  hysterical  tears  and  wails,  necessitating 
the  immediate  employment  of  all  the  comforting  powers  of 
the  lord  of  the  flat. 

For  there  lay  The  Combs  —  the  set  of  combs,  side  and 
back,  that  Delia  had  worshiped  for  long  in  a  Broadway 
window.  Beautiful  cotnbs,  pure  tortoise  shell,  with  jeweled 
rims  —  just  the  shade  to  wear  in  the  beautiful  vanished 
hair.  They  were  exjjensive  combs,  she  knew,  and  her  heart 
had  simply  craved  and  yearned  over  them  without  the  least 
hope  of  possession.  And  now,  they  were  hers,  but  the 
tresses  that  should  have  adorned  the  coveted  adornments 
were  gone. 

But  she  hugged  them  to  her  bosom,  and  at  length  she 
was  able  to  look  up  with  dim  eyes  and  a  smile  and  say : 
"  My  hair  grows  so  fast,  Jim  !  " 

And  then  Delia  leaped  up  like  a  little  singed  cat  and 
cried,  "  Oh,  oh  !  " 

Jim  had  not  yet  seen  his  beautiful  present.  She  held  it 
out  to  him  eagerly  upon  her  open  palm.  The  dull  precious 


EMPHASIS  101 

metal  seemed  to  flash  with  a  reflection  of  her  bright  and 
ardent  spirit. 

"  Is  n't  it  a  dandy,  Jim  ?  I  hunted  all  over  town  to  find 
it.  You  '11  have  to  look  at  the  time  a  hundred  times  a  day 
now.  Give  me  your  watch.  I  want  to  see  how  it  looks  on  it." 

Instead  of  obeying,  Jim  tumbled  down  on  the  couch  and 
put  his  hands  under  the  back  of  his  head  and  smiled. 

"  Dell,"  said  he,  "  let 's  put  our  Christmas  presents  away 
and  keep  'em  a  while.  They  're  too  nice  to  use  just  at  pres- 
ent. I  sold  the  watch  to  get  the  money  to  buy  your  combs. 
And  now  suppose  you  put  the  chops  on." 

The  magi,  as  you  know,  were  wise  men  —  wonderfully 

wise  men  —  who  bi'ought  gifts  to  the  Babe  in  the  manger. 

They  invented  the  art  of  giving  Christmas  presents.  Being 

wise,  their  gifts  were  no  doubt  wise  ones,  possibly  bearing 

the  privilege  of  exchange  in  case  of  duplication.   And  here 

I  have  lamely  related  to  you  the  uneventful  chronicle  of  two 

foolish  children  in  a  flat  who  most  unwisely  sacrificed  for 

each  other  the  greatest  treasures  of  their  house.    But  in  a 

last  word  to  the  wise  of  these  days  let  it  be  said  that  of  all 

who  give  gifts  these  two  were  the  wisest.    Of  all  who  give 

and  receive  gifts,  such  as  they  are  wisest.  Everywhere  they 

are  wisest.    They  are  the  magi.^ 

^  Used  •with  the  kind  permission  of,  and  by  special  arrangement  with,  the 
publishers,  Doableday,  Page  and  Company. 


.«!  A  'Kl'^r  A 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 


PART  II 

IMPRESSIVENESS 


CHAPTER  V 

IMPRESSIVENESS    IN   SPEECH 

Eloquence  is  in  the  soul,  not  in  the  tongue. 

Marmontel :  Discourse  on  Eloquence. 

ig.  Emotion  an  essential  factor  in  literature 

Undei  tiie  wiae  autl  siariy  sky, 
Di<5  the  grave  and  let  me  lie. 
Glad  did  I  live  and  gladly  die, 
And  I  laid  me  down  with  a  will. 

These  lines  are  meant  to  give  something  more  than  busi- 
nesslike instructions  for  burial.  In  them  is  a  message  of 
good  cheer  from  one  who  welcomed  life  and  whatever  it 
brought  with  courage  and  gladness.  Yet  the  stanza  may  be 
read  without  a  hint  of  its  virile  heroism  and  joy.  Obviously 
such  reading  would  be  inadequate  and  superficial.  The  ideas 
themselves  are  impotent  and  ineffective  unless  they  strike 
deeper  than  the  mind  and  stir  the  spirit  with  hopefulness 
and  fervor.  The  letter  without  the  spirit  is  dead. 

Literature,  the  kind  that  people  enjoy  and  like  to  hear 
read,  is  a  record  of  the  deeds  of  men  and  the  way  they 
think  and  feel  about  life  and  the  world.  "  In  all  art,"  said 
Stevenson,  "  it  is  first  of  all  the  author's  attitude  that  is 
narrated,  though  in  that  attitude  there  is  implied  a  whole 
experience  and  theory  of  life."  Now,  however  clearly  we 
may  think  the  author's  thoughts,  we  do  not  get  what  he 
has  to  give  until  we  understand  his  attitude  of  mind  and 
have  entered  into  his  experiences  and  made  them  ours.  A 
man  may  know  by  heart  the  ten  commandments,  but  unless 
they  are  working  principles  of  his  life  and  influence  his 


IOC  ORAL  READING 

I'oiuluet  for  gootl,  they  are  not  his  in  actual  experience.  K 
our  iniagiuations  fail  to  image  the  sweep  and  silent  grandeur 
of  "  the  wide  and  starry  sky,"  if  we  are  indifferent  to  the 
gladness  of  life,  and  if  we  do  not  feel  the  spiritual  energy 
of  Stevenson's  poem  as  a  whole,  we  cannot  speak  it  with 
fidelity,  nor  can  we  hope  to  communicate  to  others  its  glad- 
ness and  good  will.  AVe  cannot  give  that  which  we  do  not 
possess.  Not  until  we  know  and  feel  what  the  author 
thought  and  felt  are  we  justified  in  speaking  his  words. 

20.  Emotion  the  source  of  impressive  speech 
When  Lincoln  made  his  Address  at  Gettysburg  it  was 
not  his  ideas  alone  that  gave  the  speech  its  power,  but  the 
sincere  expression  of  noble  sentiment  and  emotion  which 
impressed  all  who  heard  him.  It  was  an  appeal  to  the 
heart.  The  man  made  himself  felt  in  all  he  said.  So,  in 
all  reading  and  speaking,  forcefulness  is  the  result  of  the 
speaker's  relation  to  the  thought  he  utters,  of  the  earnest- 
ness and  intensity  of  his  feeling  about  it.  When  he  has 
felt  a  thought,  when  it  has  impressed  and  influenced  him, 
the  fact  will  be  evident  in  his  speech.  The  voice,  as  well  as 
language,  reveals  how  a  speaker  feels  about  what  he  says. 
It  gives  thought  its  emotional  and  spiritual  value.  "  Force, 
the  emotional  quality  of  style,"  says  Barrett  Wendell,  "I 
may  define  as  the  distinguishing  quality  that  holds  atten- 
tion." Though  this  refers  particularly  to  written  language 
it  is  equally  applicable  to  speech.  Without  emotion,  speech 
lays  little  claim  to  the  attention  of  others.  Unless  a  man 
means  what  he  says,  others  will  not  give  much  thought  to 
what  he  says.  But  nothing  is  more  compelling  than  earnest 
self-devotion  to  an  idea.  The  man  back  of  a  thought  gives 
it  force  and  carrying  power.  This  is  as  true  of  reading 
aloud  as  of  speaking  one's  own  thoughts.  Since  it  is  the  emo- 
tional quality  of  literature  that  determines   its  influence 


IMPRESSIVENESS  IN  SPEECH  107 

upon  us,  the  emotional  energy  of  the  reader,  his  interest, 
sincerity,  and  sympathy  are  vital  to  truthful  and  effective 
reading. 

21.  Emotional  pretense 

Perhaps  it  is  the  realization  that  the  power  of  literature 
to  entertain,  interest,  and  impress  us  is  derived  largely 
from  its  emotional  character  that  has  so  often  tempted 
teachers  and  readers  to  put  emphasis  first  and  chiefly  on  the 
importance  of  producing  emotional  effects  regardless  of  the 
thought  to  be  expressed.  But  in  literature  it  is  the  thought 
that  stimulates  emotion.  To  pretend  to  the  spirit  of  a 
thing  before  one  is  sure  of  its  meaning  is  to  play  the 
hypocrite.*  Feigned  enthusiasm,  when  one  is  not  sure  of 
what  01^ e  is  enthusiastic  about,  is  not  so  deceptive  as  it  is 
dishonest.  To  assume  a  mood  not  prompted  by  a  thought 
or  situation  can  but  result  in  artificiality  and  insincerity 
in  speech.  Moreover,  ""to  overdo  emotional  expression,  to 
carry  it  beyond  the  reasonable  bounds  of  the  thought  it- 
self, is  no  less  censurable.  Repression  of  one's  impulses  is 
sometimes  as  important  as  expression.  There  is  dignity  and 
strength  in  self  control.  Quiet  speech  under  circumstances 
that  excite  strong  feeling  is  often  most  impressive.  To  strut 
and  bellow  and  "  tear  a  passion  to  tatters  "  may  make  even 
the  unskillful  laugh  —  when  they  should  not.  Loudness, 
rant,  and  frothy  exuberance  are  "  signs  of  doubt  and  fear  " 
and  self-consciousness,  rather  than  of  sincerity  and  strength. 
The  lofty  style  of  affected  declamation  gives  evidence  that 
the  speaker  is  thinking  more  about  himself  than  of  what  he 
is  saying,  that  he  is  more  eager  to  produce  effect  than  to 
communicate  thought  and  genuine  feeling. 

Bombast  and  affectation  do  not  inspire  confidence  in  the 
listener.  Studied  niceties  or  exaggerated  feeling,  in  speak- 
ing of  a  beautiful  day,  the  grandeur  of  a  mountain  scene, 


108  OR.VL  READING 

or  the  p'iof  one  feels  over  the  loss  of  a  frieiul,  would  be  no 
more  (lispleusiiig  and  shocking  than  are  conscious  artificial- 
ities in  speech,  tone,  or  action  in  reading  a  poem.  "  There 
are  no  tricks  in  plain  and  simple  faith."  It  is  this  sort  of 
thing',  the  striving  for  effect  by  extravagant  efforts  and 
feigned  emotion,  that  has  brought  elocution  mider  the  sus- 
picion and  condemnation  of  people  of  taste  and  judgment 
and  conunon  sense.  Let  the  reader  of  earnest  purpose  first 
make  sure  of  the  thought  of  his  author,  that  he  himself  is 
interested  in  it,  and  that  his  emotional  response  to  it  is 
consistent  and  genuine.  Then,  with  that  "  divine  rejjression 
of  self  "  which  prompts  one  to  "  do  all  gently,"  he  may 
speak  with  real  effectiveness  and  without  fear  of  affectation 
or  dishonesty. 

22.  Individuality  in  expression 
The  acquirement  of  an  honest  and  forceful  style,  true  to 
the  individual,  implies  diligent  discipline  of  one's  mind  and 
one's  self,  coupled  with  a  degree  of  modest  self-reliance 
and  faith  in  one's  own  judgment,  intuition,  feeling,  and 
native  manner  of  expression.  As  individuals  differ  in  tem- 
perament, taste,  and  experience,  the  shades  of  meaning 
they  get  from  words  and  their  emotional  resjjonse  to  tliem 
will  differ.  The  word  "  Mother  "  awakens  in  each  individ- 
ual feelings  similar  in  tenderness,  devotion,  and  love,  but 
the  mental  picture  of  voice  and  face  and  person  will  be 
different  in  each  case,  and  the  emotional  response  will  vary 
in  obedience  to  associations  awakened.  In  like  manner,  the 
images  and  experiences  called  up  in  the  mind  of  each  by  a 
line  of  poetry  will  not  be  identical,  and  no  two  persons,  if 
true  to  their  own  thought  and  feeling,  will  read  the  line  in 
exactly  the  same  way. 

In  reading  such  a  poem  as  Tennyson's  Break,  break 
hreak,  for  example,  the   imagination  of  each  reader  will 


niPRESSIVENESS  IN  SPEECH  109 

build  up  a  scene  out  of  his  own  personal  memories  and 
subconscious  associations  which  his  experiences  have  given 
him.  The  sea,  the  rocks,  the  stately  ships,  the  haven  undei 
the  hiU,  the  sailor  lad  singing  in  his  boat,  will  constitute 
a  picture  in  each  mind  unlike,  in  details  at  least,  thai 
held  by  any  other.  So,  also,  the  intensity  and  quality  of  the 
mood  of  grief  felt  for  one  whose  voice  is  forever  stilled 
will  vary  according  to  personal  experience,  temperament, 
and  sympathies.  It  follows,  then,  that  two  persons,  read- 
ing the  poem  aloud  for  what  it  means  to  them,  will  not 
read  alike.  Each  individual  will  read  himself  into  the  lines, 
voicing  through  them  his  own  thoughts,  his  own  soul. 
The  most  adequate  reading,  the  reading  truest  to  the  spirit 
of  the  author  will,  of  course,  be  given  by  the  one  whose 
experiences  are  most  deep  and  rich,  whose  imagination  and 
sympathies  are  quickest  and  most  sensitive,  and  whose  whole 
nature,  voice,  mind,  and  emotions,  respond  most  readily  to 
the  spiritual  appeal  of  the  poem. 

There  have  been  a  few  excellent  actors  of  Hamlet,  but 
no  two  of  them  ever  gave  the  part  identical  interpretations. 
The  personality  of  the  man,  which  is  the  result  of  all  that 
nature  and  life  have  given  him,  determines  his  understand- 
ing and  acting  of  the  character.  Each  person,  whether  act- 
ing a  part  on  the  stage,  reading  a  poem,  or  speaking  his 
j)wn  thought,  is  revealing  himself  and  his  own  character. 
*'  Believe  me,"  says  Archidamus  in  Shakespeare's  Winter  s 
Tale,  "  I  speak  as  my  understanding  instructs  me  and  as 
mine  honesty  puts  it  to  utterance."  Here  is  stated  the  fun- 
damental  principle  of  convincing  naturalness  in  speech. 
Upon  this  principle  one  may  rest  with  confidence  that  one's 
utterance,  whatever  weaknesses  or  technical  faults  it  may 
have,  will  at  least  be  honest  and  true  to  the  individual. 
And  expression  without  sincerity  and  individuality  is  not 
impressive  or  forceful. 


no  ORAL  READING 

23.  Imitation  not  trvc  expression 
Some  one  has  said  that  "  there  are  no  two  persons 
^lilce  ;  if  there  are,  one  of  them  is  of  no  account.'  It  was 
Emerson  who  dechired,  "  He  is  great  who  is  what  he  is 
;rom  nature  and  never  reminds  us  of  others."  Thejmost 
jonAundng^aiici^expiiissiv'e-^^  from  the  very 

nature  of  tllfeiiidivldual  and_never  reminds  us  of  others.  It 
behooves  each  student  to  free  his  mind  from  the  idea  that 
the  art  of  reading*  and  speech  can  be  learned  by  imitating 
some  one  else.  It  is  an  easy  matter  to  prepare  a  phrase  or 
line,  a  lesson,  or  a  particular  selection  for  reading,  by  imi- 
tating some  one  in  speaking  it,  —  and  it  saves  time,  —  but 
there  is  little  profit  or  real  training  in  allowing  another 
person  to  do  one's  thinking  and  work.  Strength,  self-reli- 
ance and  self-control  are  not  gained  that  way.  Let  the 
student  who  would  read  and  speak  well  resolve  to  "  speak 
not  at  all,"  as  Carlyle  said,  "  until  you  have  somewhat  to 
say,"  and  to  seek  the  counsel  and  criticism  of  the  teacher 
who  will  help  him  to  realize  his  best  powers  of  mind  and 
heart,  and  to  gain  self-control  and  self-reliance,  to  acquire 
a  style  of  speech  that  shall  be  refined,  normal,  and  true  to 
him  as  an  individual.  Then,  when  the  opportunity  comes, 
he  may  speak  with  confidence  as  his  "  understanding  in- 
structs him  and  his  honesty  puts  it  to  utterance."  But 
honest  utterance  does  not  result  from  imitating  others. 

24.  £Jxpressio7i  of  feeling  is  normal 
A  common  difficulty  in  the  attainment  of  that  "  emo- 
tional quality  of  style  "  which  gives  interest  and  force  and 
commands  attention  is  the  aversion  many  have  to  express- 
ing the  feeling  of  what  they  read.  This  hesitancy  to  throw 
oneself  into  the  spirit  of  a  piece  and  to  express  its  emotion 
is  often  the  result  of  fear  lest  one  seem  to  be  strivins:  for 


IMPRESSIVENESS  IN  SPEECH  111 

effect,  or  be  thought  unmanly  or  sentimental.  But  the  in- 
consistency of  this  attitude  is  easily  apparent.  On  the  play- 
ground, or  when  a  student  is  in  earnest  conversation  with 
his  associates  on  a  topic  about  which  he  has  convictions  and 
in  which  he  has  strong  personal  interest,  no  such  dread  or 
hesitancy  is  evident.  Nor  would  his  friends  think  of  pok- 
ing fun  at  him  or  accusing  him  of  sentimentality  because 
of  strong  and  even  impulsive  expression  of  his  feelings. 
Whether  he  speaks  with  earnest,  quiet  utterance  about  the 
necessity  of  getting  behind  the  team  in  the  coming  game, 
or  shouts  vehemently  on  the  field  during  practice,  he  is  not 
derided  because  of  his  enthusiasm  and  emotion. 

Now,  classroom  reading  and  speaking  is  concerned  with 
matters  no  less  vital  and  real  than  are  those  of  every-day 
sports  and  student  affairs.  Every  worthy  piece  of  literature 
is  as  true  an  expression  of  the  thought  and  feeling  of  living 
human  beings  under  various  circumstances  and  conditions 
of  life,  as  are  the  ejaculations  and  urgent  conversations  of 
those  hours  when  one  is  free  from  the  formalities  and  re- 
straints of  the  more  serious  business  of  the  classroom,  and 
demands  as  honest,  considerate,  and  spontaneous  expression. 

"  To  conceal  a  sentiment,"  said  Stevenson,  "  if  you  know 
you  have  it,  is  to  take  a  liberty  with  truth."  "When  one  is 
sure  one  has  the  thought  of  a  piece  of  literature  and  the 
spirit  of  it,  it  is  hardly  a  mark  of  courage  to  repress  utter- 
ance for  fear  of  what  others  may  think  or  say.  And  there 
is  no  need  to  fear.  Genuine  feeling,  controlled  and  frankly 
expressed,  commands  respect.  No  apology  is  needed  when 
one  speaks  feelingly  of  what  one  believes  and  enjoys.  Good, 
honest  reading  demands  that  one  be  true  to  the  spirit  as 
well  as  the  letter,  and  that  the  feeling  as  well  as  the  thought 
be  expressed  steadily  and  truly.  Every  forceful  speech  and 
every  impressive  bit  of  reading  derives  power  from  the  ardor 
and  emotional  energy  of  the  speaker. 


112  ORAL  RE.\X>ING 

25.  Earnestness  qfpvrpoae 

Furthermore,  to  devote  oneself  with  energy  to  what  one 
reads  or  speaks  is  nood  evidence  of  earnest  purpose,  as,  on 
the  other  hand,  faihire  to  give  one's  best  powers  is  evi- 
dence of  lack  of  interest  and  personal  concern.  The  student 
who  feels  that  what  he  has  to  speak,  even  tliongh  it  be  but 
a  few  lines  from  some  poem  or  oration  assigned  for  class 
practice,  is  worth  speaking  for  itself,  that  it  may  be  so 
spoken  as  to  interest  and  give  pleasure,  and  that  the  motive 
of  all  effective  utterance  is  primarily  to  instruct  and  influ- 
ence others,  will  find  it  easy  to  forget  himself,  his  embar- 
rassment and  fears.  A  realization  of  the  opportunity  the 
occasion  offers  and  the  demand  it  makes  often  helps  one 
to  speak  with  force  and  spirit.  Indeed,  the  desire  to  share 
with  others  what  one  thinks  and  believes  and  enjoys  is  a 
normal  result  of  interest,  conviction,  and  earnestness.  "No 
man,"  said  the  poet  Shelley,  "  was  ever  yet  convinced  of  a 
momentous  truth  without  feeling  within  him  the  power  as 
well  as  the  desire  to  communicate  it."  It  might  be  truth- 
fully added  that  any  man  who  is  convinced  of  a  trutli  and 
feels  no  desire  to  communicate  it  is  not  the  sort  of  man  he 
ought  to  be.  Eagerness  to  speak  is  a  part  of  preparation 
for  speech,  and  a  very  essential  part. 

If  the  reading  lesson  is  thought  of  only  as  a  perfunctory  duty 
to  be  performed  as  a  part  of  the  routine  gi*ind  of  the  day, 
the  reading  can  hardly  be  spontaneous  or  spirited  or  worth 
much,  even  as  training.  The  motive  back  of  a  piece  of  work 
determines  the  spirit  that  goes  into  it  and  the  benefit  to  be 
derived  from  doing  it.  When  the  reading  of  a  piece  of 
literature  is  made  the  occasion  for  the  mutual  sharing  of 
fine,  interesting,  and  enjoyable  thought,  the  exercise  be- 
comes a  potent  means  of  awakening  and  strengthening  the 
mind,  imagination,   and   emotions  and  of  bringing  them 


IIVIPRESSIVENESS  IN  SPEECH  113 

under  control.  At  the  same  time  the  strongest  incentive  is 
given  to  natural,  spontaneous,  earnest  expression.  Reading 
is  something  more  than  the  repetition  of  words.  When 
effectively  used,  words  carry  the  spirit  of  the  speaker  as 
well  as  the  ideas  they  stand  for.  Earnestness,  sincerity,  and 
fervor  are  but  ways  of  saying  that  the  man  is  back  of  his 
words,  that  he  finds  life  in  them  and  rejoices  in  bringing  his 
best  powers  to  the  expression  of  thought  in  the  service  of 
others. 

26.  Poetry  as  a  source  of  poioer  in  speech 

For  one  who  would  become  an  effective  reader  or  speaker 
of  his  own  thought,  there  is  no  better  general  preparation 
or  means  of  education  and  growth  for  the  work  than  the 
intensive  study  of  poetry.  The  culture  of  mind  and  spirit 
gained  through  the  influence  of  good  poetry,  such  as  is 
found  in  the  Bible,  in  Shakespeare,  and,  indeed,  in  all 
poets  whose  work  abides,  is  the  kind  of  culture  that  is  the 
secret  of  the  reader's  and  speaker's  power,  for  it  must 
be  remembered  that  whatever  cpalities  speech  may  have  to 
command  attention  come  from  within,  from  the  man  him- 
self. Wordsworth  defined  poetiy  as  "  thought  fused  iu 
feeling  "  and  as  "  the  finer  breath  and  spirit  of  all  knowl- 
edge." These  definitions  might  be  applied  with  equal  truth 
to  oratory.  Both  rest  deep  in  the  mental  and  emotional 
nature  of  man.  The  strong  speech,  like  the  strong  poem, 
draws  its  strength  from  the  imagination  and  the  emotions 
no  less  than  from  the  mind.^   The  appreciative  reading  of 

^  "Poetry  and  eloquence  are  both  alike  the  expression  or  utterance  of  feel- 
ing ;  but,  if  we  may  excuse  the  antithesis,  we  should  say  that  eloquence  is 
heard,  poetry  is  overheard.  Eloquence  supposes  an  audience.  The  peculiarity 
of  poetry  appears  to  lie  in  the  poet's  utter  unconsciousness  of  a  listener. 
Poetry  is  feelinf^  confessing  itself  to  itself  in  moments  of  solitude,  and  em- 
bodying itself  in  symbols  which  are  the  nearest  possible  representations  of 
the  feeling:  in  the  exact  shape  in  which  it  exists  in  the  poet's  mind.  £lo- 
(juence  is  feeling  pouring  itself  out  to  other  minds,  courting  their  sympathy^ 


lit  ORAL  11E:\X>ING 

j)OL'trv,  whereby  one  comes  in  contact  with  the  spirit  of  it, 
broaili'ns  anil  quickens  the  synipatliies,  strent»;thens  the 
emotional  nature,  and  educates  tlio  very  faculties  upon 
which  impressive  speech  depends. 

27.  Poetry  as  a  means  of  voice  training 
The  sincere  vocal  rendering  of  verse  affords  one  of  the 
most  effective  means  of  bringing-  the  voice  under  control 
and  of  making  it  responsive  to  thought,  imagination,  and 
feeling.  The  same  might  be  said  of  strong  passages  from 
orations,  were  it  not  for  the  fact  that  the  delivery  of  sut^h 
selections  tends  too  often  to  a  stilted,  declamatory  style, 
quite  inconsistent  with  natural  expression  and  foreign  to  the 
thought  and  spirit  of  the  orator.  When  the  situation  and 
conditions  under  which  a  particular  oration  was  delivered 
are  thoroughly  understood  and  the  occasion  is  thought  of 
as  a  very  real  one,  the  recitation  of  it  offers  valuable  train- 
ing in  speaking.  Poetry  and  impressive  speech  both  take 
their  rise  from  the  same  faculties  of  man's  nature.  It  is 
reasonable  to  conclude  that  the  modulations  of  the  voice 
requisite  to  the  adequate  voicing  of  poetry  are  the  same 
as  those  found  in  the  utterance  of  forceful  orations.  The 
influence  of  feeling  over  tone  is  heard  in  all  expressive 
reading  of  verse  and  in  all  impressive  speech.  It  follows, 
then,  that  whatever  facility  of  vocal  expression  may  be 
gained  in  rendering  poetry  will  be  added  to  the  vocal  asset 
of  the  speaker.  The  voicing  of  poems  contrasted  in  thought 
and  spirit  offers  the  best  kind  of  practice  for  securing  range, 

or  endeavorin<j  to  influence  their  belief,  or  move  them  to  passion  or  to  ac- 
tion."   (John  Stuart  Mill.) 

"  At  the  bottom,  the  instinct  which  produces  a  poem  and  that  -which  pro- 
duces an  oration  is  nearly  the  same  thin!?.  Both  find  tbeir  root  in  emotion. 
Neither  a  great  poem  nor  a  great  speech  was  ever  built  upon  a  purely  intel- 
lectual foundation  ;  and,  in  general,  the  effectiveness  of  either  depends  upon 
the  character  and  force  of  the  emotion  which  breathes  through  it."  (G.  P. 
bervisa :  Eloquence.) 


impressi\t:ness  in  speech  115 

quality,  variety  in  time  and  force,  with  all  the  varied  shades 
of  expression  of  which  the  voice  is  capable. 

Finally,  training  in  the  expression  of  the  spirit  of  litera- 
ture, of  which  poetry  is  the  highest  and  finest  type,  in- 
volves the  education  and  control  of  the  mind,  the  emotions, 
and  the  physical  means  of  expression.  True  and  adequate 
expression  is  not  possible  when  one  has  not  the  voice  and 
body  under  control.  The  voice  may  be  weak  and  unre- 
sponsive and  colorless;  the  body  awkward  and  disobedient 
to  the  finer  influences  of  thought  and  emotion  ;  mannerisms 
resulting  from  wrong  habits  or  imitation  may  hamper  ex- 
pression as  a  vocabulary  of  slang  mars  language.  Practice 
in  the  problems  involved  in  forceful  utterance  will  help  to 
coordinate  the  action  of  the  voice  with  the  mind  and  feel- 
ing, will  give  it  range  and  flexibility,  and  will  help  to  the 
acquiring  of  an  individual  and  normal  style  of  speech. 
Moreover,  such  practice  will  reveal  causes  of  failure  in  ex- 
pression, whether  the  causes  be  lack  of  clear  understand- 
ing, or  emotional  unreponsiveness,  or  dullness  of  imagina- 
tion, or  deficiencies  of  voice.  As  a  final  admonition,  it 
should  be  repeated  that  in  all  reading  of  selections  the 
aim  should  be  to  express  the  thought  and  spirit  for  their 
sake,  not  with  first  attention  to  the  particular  modulations 
of  the  voice  or  the  way  it  acts,  but  to  find  out  how  the 
voice  acts  of  itself  under  the  influence  and  stimulus  of 
varying  thoughts  and  feelings,  and  to  increase  its  respon- 
siveness to  these  impulses. 

EXERCISE   IN   IMPRESSIVE    SPEECH 

The  following  adaptation  of  the  latter  part  of  Irving's 
Legend  of  Sleepy  Hollow  afl^ords  excellent  material  for 
rendering  the  voice  obedient  to  the  imagination  and  the 
emotions. 


116  OILVL  READING 

THE  LEGEND  OF  SLEEPY  HOLLOW 

^yusllin(Jto)^  Irving 

It  was  toward  evening  tliat  Icluibod  arrived  at  the  castle  ol 
the  Heer  Van  Tassel,  which  he  found  thronged  w^ith  the  pride 
and  flower  of  the  iidjacent  country.  Old  farmers,  a  spare  leath- 
ern-facod  race,  in  homespun  coals  and  breeches,  blue  stockings, 
luige  shoes,  and  magnificent  pewter  buckles.  Tlieir  brisk,  with- 
ered little  dames,  in  close  crimped  caps,  long-waisted  short-gowns, 
homespun  petticoats,  with  scissors  and  pin-cushions,  and  gay 
calico  pockets  hanging  on  the  outside.  Buxom  lasses,  almost  as 
antiquated  as  their  mothers,  excepting  where  a  straw  hat,  a  fine 
ribbon,  or  perhaps  a  white  frock,  gave  symptoms  of  city  innova' 
tion.  The  sons,  in  short  square-skirted  coats,  with  rows  of  stu- 
pendous brass  buttons,  and  their  hair  generally  queued  in  the 
fashion  of  the  times,  especially  if  they  could  procure  an  eelskin 
for  the  purpose,  it  being  esteemed  throughout  the  country  as  a 
potent  nourisher  and  strengthener  of  the  hair. 

Brom  Bones,  however,  was  the  hero  of  the  scene,  having  come 
to  the  gathering  on  his  favorite  steed  Daredevil,  a  creature,  like 
himself,  full  of  mettle  and  mischief,  and  which  no  one  but  him- 
self could  manage.  He  was,  in  fact,  noted  for  preferring  vicious 
animals,  given  to  all  kinds  of  tricks  which  kept  the  rider  in  con- 
stant risk  of  his  neck,  for  he  held  a  tractable,  well-broken  horse 
as  unworthy  of  a  lad  of  spirit. 

P'ain  would  I  pause  to  dwell  upon  the  world  of  charms  that 
burst  upon  the  enraptured  gaze  of  my  hero,  as  he  entered  the 
state  parlor  of  Van  Tassel's  mansion.  Not  those  of  the  bevy  of 
buxom  lasses,  with  their  luxurious  display  of  red  and  white ;  but 
the  ample  charms  of  a  genuine  Dutch  country  tea-table,  in  the 
sumptuous  time  of  autumn.  Such  heaped-up  platters  of  cakes  of 
various  and  almost  indescribable  kinds,  known  only  to  experi- 
enced Dutch  housewives  !  I  want  breath  and  time  to  discuss  this 
banquet  as  it  deserves,  and  am  too  eager  to  get  on  with  my  story. 
Happily,  Ichabod  Crane  was  not  in  so  great  a  hurry  as  his  his- 
torian, but  did  ample  justice  to  every  dainty. 

He  was  a  kind  and  thankful  creature,  whose  heart  dilated  in 
proportion  as  his  skin  was  filled  with  good  cheer,  and  whose  spirits 


IMPRESSIVENESS  IN  SPEECH  117 

rose  with  eating,  as  some  men's  do  with  drink.  He  could  not  help, 
too,  rolling  his  large  eyes  round  him  as  he  ate,  and  chuckling  with 
the  possibility  that  he  might  one  day  be  lord  of  all  this  scene  of 
jtlmost  unimaginable  luxury  and  splendor. 

Old  Baltus  Van  Tassel  moved  about  among  his  guests  with  a 
fece  dilated  with  content  and  good-humor,  round  and  jolly  as  the 
jarvest  moon.  His  hospitable  attentions  were  brief,  but  expressive, 
being  confined  to  a  shake  of  the  hand,  a  slap  on  the  shoulder,  a 
loud  laugh,  and  a  pressing  invitation  to  ''  fall  to,  and  help  them- 
selves." 

And  now  the  sound  of  the  music  from  the  common  room,  or 
hall,  summoned  to  the  dance.  The  nmsician  was  an  old  gray- 
headed  negro,  who  had  been  the  itinerant  orchestra  of  the  neigh- 
borhood for  more  than  half  a  century.  His  instrument  was  as  old 
and  battered  as  himself.  The  greater  part  of  the  time  he  scraped 
on  two  or  three  strings,  accompanying  every  movement  of  the 
bow  with  a  motion  of  the  head ;  bowing  almost  to  the  ground, 
and  stamping  witli  his  foot  whenever  a  fresh  couple  were  to  start. 

Icbabod  prided  himseK  upon  his  dancing  as  much  as  upon  his 
vocal  powers.  Not  a  limb,  not  a  fibre  about  him  was  idle ;  and  to 
have  seen  his  loosely  hung  frame  in  full  motion,  and  clattering 
about  the  room,  you  would  have  thought  St.  Vitus  himself,  that 
blessed  patron  of  the  dance,  was  figuring  before  you  in  person. 
How  could  the  flogger  of  urchins  be  otherwise  than  animated  and 
joyous?  the  lady  of  his  heart  was  his  partner  in  the  dance,  and 
smiling  graciously  in  reply  to  all  his  amorous  oglings  ;  while  Brom 
Bones,  sorely  smitten  with  love  and  jealousy,  sat  brooding  by  him- 
self in  one  corner. 

When  the  dance  was  at  an  end,  Ichabod  was  attracted  to  a 
knot  of  the  sager  folks,  who,  with  Old  Van  Tassel,  sat  smoking 
at  one  end  of  the  piazza,  gossiping  over  former  times,  and  draw- 
ing out  long  stories  about  the  war.  But  these  were  nothing  to  the 
tales  of  ghosts  and  apparitions  that  succeeded. 
/  The  immediate  cause  of  the  prevalence  of  supernatural  stories 
in  these  parts,  was  doubtless  owing  to  the  vicinity  of  Sleepy  Hol- 
low. There  was  a  contagion  in  the  very  air  that  blew  from  that 
haunted  region ;  it  bieathed  forth  an  atmosphere  of  dreams  and 
fancies  infecting  all  the  land.  Several  of  the  Sleepy  Hollow  people 
wei'e  present  at  Van  Tassel's,  and,  as  usual,  were  doling  out  their 


118  ORAL  RE.VDING 

•wild  and  wonderful  legends.  Many  dismal  tales  were  told  about 
funeral  trains,  and  luourning  cries  and  wailings  heard  and  seen 
about  the  great  tree  where  the  unfortunate  Major  Andr^  was 
taken,  and  wiiich  stood  in  the  neighborhoitd.  Some  mention  wa( 
made  also  of  the  woman  in  white,  that  haunted  the  dark  glen  a' 
liaven  Rock,  and  was  often  heard  to  shriek  on  winter  nights  be 
fore  a  storm,  having  perished  there  in  the  snow.  The  chief  part 
of  the  stories,  however,  turned  upon  the  favorite  spectre  of  Sleepy 
Hollow,  the  Headless  Horseman,  who  had  been  heard  several  times 
of  late,  patrolling  the  country  ;  and,  it  was  said,  tethered  his  horse 
uightly  among  the  graves  in  the  churchyard. 

The  tale  was  told  of  old  Brouwer,  a  most  heretical  disbeliever 
in  ghosts,  how  he  met  the  Horseman  returning  fi'om  his  foray 
into  Sleepy  Hollow,  and  was  obliged  to  get  up  behind  him ; 
how  they  galloped  over  bush  and  brake,  over  hill  and  swamp, 
until  they  reached  the  bridge ;  when  the  Horseman  suddenly 
turned  into  a  skeleton,  threw  old  Brouwer  into  the  brook,  and 
sprang  away  over  the  tree-tops  with  a  clap  of  thunder. 

This  story  was  immediately  matched  by  a  thrice  marvellous 
adventure  of  Brom  Bones,  who  made  light  of  the  Galloping  Hes- 
sian as  an  arrant  jockey.  He  affirmed  that  on  returning  one 
night  from  the  neighboring  village  of  Sing  Sing,  he  had  been 
overtaken  by  this  midnight  trooper ;  that  he  had  offered  to  race 
with  him  for  a  bowl  of  punch,  and  should  have  won  it  too,  for 
Daredevil  beat  the  goblin  horse  all  hollow,  but  just  as  they  came 
to  the  church  bridge,  the  Hessian  bolted,  and  vanished  in  a  flash 
of  fire. 

All  these  tales,  told  in  that  drowsy  undertone  with  which  men 
talk  in  the  dark,  the  countenances  of  the  listeners  only  now  and 
then  receiving  a  casual  gleam  from  the  glare  of  a  pipe,  sank  deep 
in  the  mind  of  Ichabod. 

The  revel  now  gradually  broke  up.  The  old  farmers  gathered 
together  their  families  in  their  wagons,  and  were  heard  for  some 
time  rattling  along  the  hollow  roads,  and  over  the  distant  hills. 
Ichabod  only  lingered  behind,  according  to  the  custom  of  country 
lovers,  to  have  a  tete-a-tete  with  the  heiress  ;  fully  convinced  that 
he  was  now  on  the  high  road  to  success.  What  passed  at  this  inter- 
view I  will  not  pretend  to  say,  for  in  fact  I  do  not  know.  Some- 
thing, however,  I  fear  me,  must  have  gone  wrong,  for  he  certainly 


IMPRESSIVENESS  IN  SPEECH  119 

sallied  forth,  after  no  very  great  interval,  with  an  air  quite  deso- 
late and  chajjfallen.  Oh,  these  women  !  these  women  !  Could  that 
girl  have  been  playing  off  any  of  her  coquettish  tricks  ?  Was  her 
encouragement  of  the  poor  pedagogue  all  a  mere  sham  to  secure 
her  conquest  of  his  rival  ?  Heaven  only  knows,  not  I !  Let  it  suf- 
fice to  say,  Ichabod  stole  forth  with  the  air  of  one  who  had  been 
sacking  a  henroost,  rather  than  a  fair  lady's  heart.  Without  look- 
ing to  the  right  or  left  to  notice  the  scene  of  rural  wealth,  on 
which  he  had  so  often  gloated,  he  went  straight  to  the  stable,  and 
with  several  hearty  cult's  and  kicks  roused  his  steed  most  uncour- 
teously  from  the  comfortable  quarters  in  which  he  was  soundly 
sleeping,  dreaming  of  mountains  of  corn  and  oats,  and  whole 
valleys  uf  timothy  and  clover, 
tit  was  the  very  witching  time  of  night  that  Ichabod,  heavy- 

I  hearted  and  crest-fallen,  pursued  his  travels  homewards,  along 
the  sides  of  the  lofty  hills  which  rise  above  Tarry  Town,  and 
which  he  had  traversed  so  cheerily  in  the  afternoon. 

All  the  stories  of  ghosts  and  goblins  that  he  had  heard  in  the 
afternoon  now  came  crowding  upon  his  recollection.  The  night 
grew  darker  and  darker ;  the  stars  seemed  to  sink  deeper  in  the 
sky,  and  driving  clouds  occasionally  hid  them  from  his  sight.  He 
had  never  felt  so  lonely  and  dismal.  He  was,  moreover,  approach- 
ing the  very  place  where  many  of  the  scenes  of  the  ghost  stories 
had  been  laid.  In  the  centre  of  the  road  stood  an  enormous  tulip- 
tree,  which  towered  like  a  giant  above  all  the  other  trees  of  the 
neighborhood,  and  formed  a  kind  of  landmark.  Its  limbs  were 
gnarled  and  fantastic,  large  enough  to  form  trunks  for  ordinary 
trees,  twisting  down  almost  to  the  earth,  and  rising  again  into  the 
air.  It  was  connected  with  the  tragical  story  of  the  unfortunate 
Andre,  who  had  been  taken  ])risoner  hard  by  ;  and  was  univer* 
sally  known  by  the  name  of  Major  Andre's  tree. 

As  Ichabod  approached  this  fearful  tree,  he  began  to  whistle : 
he  thought  his  whistle  was  answered  ;  it  was  but  a  blast  sweep- 
ing sharply  through  the  dry  branches.  As  he  approached  a  little 
nearer,  he  thought  he  saw  something  white,  hanging  in  the  midst 
of  the  tree :  he  paused,  and  ceased  whistling ;  but,  on  looking 
more  narrowly,  perceived  that  it  was  a  place  where  the  tree  had 
been  scathed  by  lightning,  and  tlie  white  wood  laid  bare.  Sud- 
denly he  heard  a  groan  —  his  teeth  chattered,  and  his  knees  smote 


HO  ORAL  READING 

a<;.uiist  tlie  saddle :  it  was  but  the  rubbing  of  one  huge  bough 
upon  another,  as  they  were  swayed  about  by  the  breeze.  He 
passed  the  tree  in  safety,  but  new  perils  lay  before  him. 

About  two  hundred  yanls  from  the  tree,  a  snudl  brook  crossed 
the  road,  and  ran  into  a  marshy  and  thickly-wooded  glen,  known 
by  the  name  of  Wiley's  Swamp.  A  few  rough  logs,  laid  side  by 
side,  served  for  a  bridge  over  this  stream.  On  that  side  of  the 
road  where  the  brook  entered  the  wood,  a  group  of  oaks  and  chest- 
nuts, matted  thick  with  wild  grape-vines,  threw  a  cavernous  gloom 
over  it.  To  ])ass  this  bridge  was  the  severest  trial.  It  was  at  this 
identical  spot  that  the  unfortunate  Andrd  was  captured,  and  under 
the  covert  of  those  chestnuts  and  vines  were  the  sturdy  yeomen 
concealed  who  surprised  him.  This  has  ever  since  been  considered 
a  haunted  stream,  and  fearful  are  the  feelings  of  the  schoolboy 
who  has  to  pass  it  alone  after  dark. 

As  he  approached  the  stream  his  heart  began  to  thump ;  he 
summoned  uj),  however,  all  his  resolution,  gave  his  horse  half  a 
score  of  kicks  in  the  ribs,  and  attempted  to  dash  briskly  across 
the  bridge ;  but  instead  of  starting  forward,  the  perverse  old  ani- 
mal made  a  lateral  movement,  and  ran  broadside  against  the 
fence.  Ichabod,  whose  fears  increased  with  the  delay,  jerked  the 
reins  on  the  other  side,  and  kii-ked  lustily  with  the  contrary  foot : 
it  was  all  in  vain  ;  his  steed  started,  it  is  true,  but  it  was  only  to 
plunge  to  the  opposite  side  of  the  road  into  a  thicket  of  brambles 
and  alder-bushes.  The  schoolmaster  now  bestowed  both  whip  and 
heel  upon  the  starveling  ribs  of  old  Gunpowder,  who  dashed  for- 
ward, snuffling  and  snorting,  but  came  to  a  stand  just  by  the 
bridge,  with  a  suddenness  that  had  nearly  sent  his  rider  sprawl- 
ing over  his  head.  Just  at  this  moment  a  sj^lashy  tramp  by  the 
side  of  the  bridge  caught  the  sensitive  ear  of  Ichabod.  In  the  dark 
shadow  of  the  grove,  on  the  margin  of  the  brook,  he  beheld  some- 
thing huge,  missliapen,  and  towering.  It  stirred  not,  but  seemed 
,  gathered  up  in  the  gloom,  like  some  gigantic  monster  ready  to 
" — '6£Z.''"fr  upoi^  the  traveller. 

The  liair  of  the  affrighted  pedagogue  rose  upon  his  head  with 
terror.  What  was  to  be  done  ?  To  turn  and  fly  was  now  too  late  ; 
und  besides,  what  chance  was  there  of  escaping  ghost  or  goblin, 
if  such  it  was,  which  could  ride  upon  the  wings  of  the  wind  ? 
Summoning  up,  therefore,  a  show  of  courage,  he  demanded  in 


IMPRESSIVENESS  IN  SPEECH  121 

stammering  accents,  "  Who  are  you  ?  "  He  received  no  reply.  He 
repeated  his  demand  in  a  still  more  agitated  voice.  Still  there  was 
no  answer.  Oiice  more  he  cudgelled  the  sides  of  the  inflexihle 
Gunpowder,  and,  shutting  his  eyes,  hroke  forth  with  involuntary 
fervor  into  a  psalm  tune.  Just  then  the  shadowy  object  of  alarm 
put  itself  in  motion,  and  with  a  scramble  and  a  bound  stood  at 
once  in  the  middle  of  the  road.  Though  the  night  was  dark  and 
dismal,  yet  the  form  of  the  unknown  might  now  in  some  degree 
be  ascertained.  He  appeared  to  be  a  horseman  of  lai-ge  dimen- 
sions, and  mounted  on  a  black  horse  of  powerful  frame.  He  made 
no  offer  of  molestation  or  sociability,  but  kejit  aloof  on  one  side 
of  the  road,  jogging  along  on  the  blind  side  of  old  Gunpowder, 
^ho  had  now  got  over  his  fright  and  waywardness. 

Ichabod,  who  had  no  relish  for  this  strange  midnight  com- 
panion, and  bethought  himself  of  the  adventure  of  Brom  Bones 
with  the  Galloping  Hessian,  now  quickened  his  steed  in  hopes  of 
leaving  him  behind.  The  stranger,  however,  quickened  his  hoi'se 
to  an  equal  pace.  Ichabod  pulled  up,  and  fell  into  a  walk,  tliink- 
ing  to  lag  behind,  —  the  other  did  the  same.  His  heart  began  to 
sink  within  him ;  he  endeavored  to  resume  his  psalm  tune,  but  liis 
parched  tongue  clove  to  the  roof  of  his  mouth,  and  he  could  not 
utter  a  stave.  There  was  something  in  the  moody  and  dogged 
silence  of  this  pertinacious  companion  that  was  mysterious  and 
appalling.  It  was  soon  fearfully  accounted  for.  On  mounting  a 
rising  ground,  which  brought  the  figure  of  his  fellow-traveller  in 
relief  against  the  sky,  gigantic  in  height,  and  muffled  in  a  cloak, 
Ichabod  was  horror-struck  on  perceiving  that  he  was  headless ! 
but  his  horror  was  still  more  increased  on  observing  that  the  head, 
which  should  have  rested  on  his  shoulders,  was  carried  before 
him  on  the  pommel  of  his  saddle  !  His  terror  rose  to  desperation  ; 
he  rained  a  shower  of  kicks  and  blows  upon  Gunpowder,  hoping 
by  a  sudden  movement  to  give  his  companion  the  slip  ;  but  the 
spectre  started  full  jump  with  him.  Away,  then,  they  dashed 
through  thick  and  thin  ;  stones  flying  and  sparks  flashing  at 
every  bound.  Ichabod's  flimsy  garments  fluttered  in  the  air,  as 
he  stretched  his  long  lank  body  away  over  his  horse's  head,  in  the 
eagerness  of  his  flight. 

They  had  now  reached  the  road  which  turns  off  to  Sleepy  Hol- 
low ;  but  Gunpowder,  who  seemed  possessed  with  a  demon,  in- 


Ui  ORAL  READING 

stead  of  keeping  up  it,  made  an  opposite  turn,  and  plunged  head- 
long down  hill  to  the  left.  This  road  leails  throu<,di  a  sandy 
hollow,  shaded  by  trees  for  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile,  where  it 
crosses  the  bridge  famous  in  goblin  story  ;  and  just  beyond  swells 
the  green  knoll  on  which  stands  the  whitewashed  church. 

I  As  yet  the  panic  of  the  steed  had  given  his  unskilful  rider  an 
apparent  advantage  in  the  chase  ;  but  just  as  he  had  got  half  way 
through  the  liollow,  the  girths  of  the  saddle  gave  way,  and  he 
felt  it  slipping  from  under  him.  He  seized  it  by  the  pommel,  and 
endeavored  to  hold  it  firm,  but  in  vain  ;  and  had  just  time  to 
save  himself  by  clasping  old  Gunpowder  round  the  neck,  when 
the  saddle  fell  to  the  earth,  and  he  heard  it  trampled  under  foot 
by  his  pursuer.  For  a  moment  the  terror  of  Hans  Van  Ripper's 
wrath  passed  across  his  mind,  —  for  it  was  his  Sunday  saddle ; 
but  this  was  no  time  for  petty  fears ;  the  goblin  was  hard  on  his 
haunches;  and  (unskilful  rider  that  he  was!)  he  had  much  ado 
to  maintain  his  seat ;  sometimes  slipping  on  one  side,  sometimes 
on  another,  and  sometimes  jolted  on  the  high  ridge  of  his  horse's 
backbone,  with  a  violence  that  he  verily  feared  would  cleave  him 
asunder. 

An  opening  in  the  trees  now  cheered  him  with  the  hopes  that 
the  church  bridge  was  at  hand.  The  wavering  reflection  of  a  silver 
star  in  the  bosom  of  the  brook  told  him  that  he  was  not  mistaken. 
He  saw  the  walls  of  the  church  dimly  glaring  under  the  trees  be- 
yond. He  recollected  the  place  where  Brom  Bones'  ghostly  com- 
petitor had  disappeared.  "If  I  can  but  reach  that  bridge," 
thought  Ichabod,  "  I  am  safe."  Just  then  he  heard  the  black  steed 
panting  and  blowing  close  behind  him  ;  he  even  fancied  that  he 
felt  his  hot  breath.  Another  convulsive  kick  in  the  ribs,  and  old 
Gunpowder  sprang  upon  the  bridge  ;  he  thundered  over  the  re- 
sounding planks;  he  gained  the  opposite  side;  and  now  Ichabod 
cast  a  look  behind  to  see  if  his  pursuer  should  vanish,  according 
to  rule,  in  a  flash  of  fire  and  brimstone.  Just  then  he  saw  the 
goblin  rising  in  his  stiiTups,  and  in  the  very  act  of  hurling  his 
head  at  him.  Ichabod  endeavored  to  dodge  the  horrible  missile, 
but  too  late.  It  encountered  his  cranium  with  a  tremendous 
crash,  —  he  was  tumbled  headlong  into  the  dust,  and  Gunpowder, 
the  black  steed,  and  the  goblin  rider,  passed  by  like  a  whirlwind. 
The  next  morning  the  old  horse  was  found  without  his  saddle^ 


IMPRESSIVENESS  IN  SPEECH  123 

and  with  the  bridle  under  his  feet,  soberly  cropping  the  grass  at 
his  master's  gate.  Ichabod  did  not  make  his  appearance  at  break- 
fast; dinner-hour  came,  but  no  Ichabod.  The  boys  assembled  at 
the  schoolhouse,  and  strolled  idly  about  the  banks  of  the  brook ; 
but  no  schoolmaster.  Hans  Van  Ripper  now  began  to  feel  some 
uneasiness  about  the  fate  of  poor  Ichabod,  and  his  saddle.  An 
inquiry  was  set  on  foot,  and  after  diligent  investigation  tbey 
came  upon  his  traces.  In  one  part  of  the  road  leading  to  the 
cburch  was  found  the  saddle  trampled  in  the  dirt ;  the  tracks  of 
horses'  hoofs  deeply  dented  in  the  road,  and  evidently  at  furious 
speed,  were  traced  to  the  bridge,  beyond  which,  on  the  bank  of  a 
broad  part  of  the  brook,  where  the  water  ran  deep  and  black,  was 
found  the  hat  of  the  unfortunate  Ichabod,  and  close  beside  it  a 
shattered  pumpkin. 

The  mysterious  event  caused  much  speculation  at  the  church 
on  the  following  Sunday.  Knots  of  gazers  and  gossips  were  col- 
lected in  the  churchyard,  at  the  bridge,  and  at  the  spot  where  the 
hat  and  pumpkin  had  been  found.  The  stories  of  Brouwer,  of 
Bones,  and  a  whole  budget  of  others  were  called  to  mind ;  and 
when  they  had  diligently  considered  them  all,  and  compared  them 
with  the  symptoms  of  the  present  case,  they  shook  their  heads, 
and  came  to  the  conclusion  that  Ichabod  had  been  carried  off  by 
the  Galloping  Hessian.  As  he  was  a  bachelor,  and  in  nobody's 
debt,  nobody  troubled  his  head  any  more  about  him  ;  the  school 
was  removed  to  a  different  quarter  of  the  Hollow,  and  another 
pedagogue  reigned  in  liis  stead. 

It  is  true,  an  old  farmer,  who  had  been  down  to  New  York  on 
a  visit  several  years  after,  and  from  whom  this  account  of  the 
ghostly  adventure  was  received,  brought  home  the  intelligence 
that  Ichabod  Crane  was  still  alive  ;  that  he  had  changed  his 
quarters  to  a  distant  part  of  the  country ;  had  kept  school  and 
studied  law  at  the  same  time ;  had  been  admitted  to  the  bar ; 
turned  politician  ;  electioneered  ;  written  for  the  newspapers  ;  and 
finally  had  been  made  a  justice  of  the  ten  pound  court.  Brom 
Bones,  too,  who,  shortly  after  his  rival's  disappearance  conducted 
the  blooming  Katrina  in  triumph  to  the  altar,  was  observed  to 
look  exceedingly  knowing  whenever  the  story  of  Ichabod  was 
related,  and  always  burst  into  a  hearty  laugh  at  the  mention  of 
the  pumjjkin ;  which  led  some  to  suspect  that  he  knew  more 
about  the  matter  than  he  chose  to  tell. 


CHAPTER  VI 

VOCAL  ENERGY 

28.  The  modulation  of  vocal  energy  in  speech 
One  of  the  characteristics  of  expressive  utterance  is  vari- 
ation in  vocal  energy,  or  force.  Kead  aloud  the  following 
lines  and  note  the  difference  in  the  use  of  vocal  energy 
between  the  narrative  portion  and  the  words  spoken  by 
Berkley. 

A  moment  there  was  awful  pause  — 

When  Berkley  cried,  "  Cease,  traitor  I  Cease  1 

God's  temple  is  the  house  of  peace !  " 

T.  B.  Read  :   The  Rising. 

Let  the  reader  put  himself  in  imagination  in  the  place  of 
Berkley  and  utter  his  speech  as  a  sharp,  vigorous  protest, 
and  he  will  find  that  the  words  are  set  out  by  increased 
volume  of  tone  and  stronger  stroke  of  the  voice  on  the 
vowels.  An  indifferent,  unimaginative  reading  of  the  lines, 
with  a  consequent  uniformity  of  vocal  force,  would  convey 
to  the  listener  no  very  strong  impression  of  their  spirit,  for 
the  auditor  is  not  apt  to  get  more  meauiug  out  of  words 
than  the  speaker  finds  in  them  and  expresses  through  them. 
Unvaried  vocal  force,  like  monotone,  indicates  lack  of  un- 
derstanding and  interest  on  the  part  of  the  speaker,  or  fail- 
ure to  discriminate  between  ideas  and  to  respond  to  their 
meaning  and  spirit.  Or,  to  state  the  matter  in  a  positive 
way,  significant  variety  in  the  use  of  vocal  energy  is  evi- 
dence of  concentration  of  mental  and  emotional  energy. 

The  degree  and  modulation  of  vocal  energy,  varying 
from  the  whisper  of  secrecy,  alarm,  or  fear,  to  the  shout  of 
warning,  joy,  or  triumph,  are  manifold  as  are  the  thoughts, 


VOCAL  ENERGY  125 

purposes,  feelings,  and  circumstances  that  prompt  speech. 
According  to  the  motives  of  the  speaker  and  the  conditions 
under  which  he  speaks,  the  energy  of  speech  varies  in  (1) 
intensity,  (2)  duration,  and  (3)  stress. 

I.  Intensity  of  tone.  A  certain  intensity  of  tone  per- 
vades all  earnest  speech.  This  is  true,  whether  the  utter- 
ance be  loud  or  soft,  excited  or  calm.  It  is  a  common  error 
to  associate  loudness  with  strength.  It  cannot  be  denied 
that  strong  feeling  often  finds  expression  in  loud  tones,  but 
vocal  noise  is  no  sure  indication  of  mental  or  emotional 
power.  More  often  it  gives  evidence  of  lack  of  self-control. 
The  subdued  intense  tone  is  sometimes  more  potent  and 
effective  than  a  loud  one.  The  whispered  "  Hark ! "  of 
alarm  is  more  impressive  than  the  shouted  word  would  be. 
"  A  soft  answer  turneth  away  wrath,"  because  the  man  who 
can  control  his  spirit  in  the  presence  of  anger  shows  supe- 
rior strength.  In  the  well-known  quarrel  scene  between 
Cassius  and  Brutus  (^Julius  Coesar,  iv,  iii)  Brutus  replies 
to  the  sharp  and  violent  outbursts  and  threats  of  Cassius 
in  a  quiet,  steady  voice.  Though  not  loud  or  vehement,  the 
speech  of  Brutus  is  no  less  intense  than  that  of  Cassius. 
To  him  there  is  no  terror  in  the  rash  and  noisy  threats  of 
Cassius,  but  the  firm  controlled  spirit  and  voice  of  Brutus 
brings  Cassius  to  his  knees.  Intensity  and  impressiveness 
of  tone,  whatever  degree  of  loudness  it  may  have,  depend 
on  the  clearness  and  definiteness  of  the  speaker's  thought, 
his  motives  in  speaking,  his  interest,  zeal,  enthusiasm,  and 
his  self-control. 

This  aspect  of  vocal  expression  is  influenced  to  such  an 
extent  by  shades  of  thought  and  meaning,  by  kinds  and 
degrees  of  feeling,  by  the  temperament  and  speech-habits 
of  the  reader,  and  the  particular  situation  and  occasion 
under  which  he  speaks,  that  it  is  not  possible  to  formulate 
detailed  classifications.  Nor  is  it  necessary  here.  But  for 


126  ORAL  READING 

tho  purposes  of  study  and  practice,  the  following  general 
priucii)Ies  and  suggestions  may  prove  helpful. 

o.  In  the  expression  of  earnestness  and  strong  conviction, 
of  heroic  and  nuirtial  moods,  of  emotions  of  wonder,  awe 
and  reverence,  and  deep  solenniity,  the  utterance  is  marked 
by  firm,  strong  strokes  of  the  voice  on  the  accented  vowels. 
As  speech  becomes  fraught  with  feeling  it  naturally  in- 
jreases  in  intensity,  but  not  necessarily  in  loudness.  This 
quiet,  impressive  stj'le  is  exemplified  in  the  utterance  of 
the  best  sjjeakers  of  our  time.  Loudness,  rant,  and  forced 
declamation  are  not  highly  effective  with  listeners  who  know 
the  difference  between  clear  and  earnest  expression  and 
pretentious  noise.  The  sane  and  convincing  speaker  does 
not  shout  at  the  top  of  his  voice,  "  Come,  let  us  reason  to- 
gether ! "  Nor  does  he  bawl  out  his  reasoning  or  bellow  his 
sentiments.  The  dignity,  beauty,  and  power  of  the  closing 
sentences  from  AV^ebster's  liejjly  to  Huyne  are  best  ex- 
pressed, not  by  loudness,  but  by  the  sustained,  firm,  vibrant 
tone  consistent  with  their  elevated  thought  and  deep  feeling. 

While  the  Union  lasts,  we  have  high,  excitinof,  gratifying  pros- 
pects spread  out  before  us,  for  us  and  our  children.  Beyond  that 
I  seek  not  to  penetrate  the  veil.  God  grant  that,  in  my  day,  at 
least,  that  curtain  may  not  rise !  God  grant,  that  on  my  vision 
never  may  be  opened  what  lies  behind  !  When  my  eyes  shall  be 
turned  to  behold,  for  the  last  time,  the  sun  in  heaven,  may  I 
not  see  him  shining  on  the  broken  and  dishonored  fragments  of  a 
once  glorious  Union  ;  on  States  dissevered,  discord.uit,  belliger- 
ent ;  on  a  land  rent  with  civil  feuds,  or  drenched,  it  may  be,  in 
fraternal  blood !  Let  their  last  feeble  and  lingering  glance  rather 
behold  the  gorgeous  ensign  of  the  republic,  now  known  and  hon- 
ored throughout  the  earth,  still  fall  high  advanced,  its  arms  and 
trophies  streaming  in  their  original  lustre,  not  a  stripe  erased  or 
polluted,  nor  a  single  star  obscured  —  bearing  for  its  motto  no 
such  miserable  interrogatory  as  What  is  all  this  worth  ?  nor 
those  other  words  of  delusion  and  folly,  "  Liberty  first,  and  Union 
afterwards  "  —  but  everywhere,  spread  all  over  in  characters  of 


VOCAL  ENERGY  127 

living  light,  blazing  on  all  its  ample  folds,  as  they  float  over  the 
sea  and  over  the  land,  and  in  every  wind  under  the  whole 
heavens,  that  other  sentiment,  dear  to  every  true  American  heart 
—  Liberty  and  Union,  now  and  forever,  one  and  inseparable. 

h.  In  voicing  the  gentler  emotions  and  sentiments  of 
tenderness,  love,  resignation,  peace,  tranquillity,  and  enjoy- 
ment of  the  beautiful,  the  tone  is  naturally  quiet,  not  weak 
or  lifeless,  but  at  once  subdued  and  intense.^ 

I  know  not  what  the  future  hath 

Of  marvel  or  surprise, 
Assured  alone  that  life  and  death 

His  mercy  underlies. 

I  know  not  where  His  islands  lift 

Their  fronded  palms  in  air  ; 
I  only  know  I  cannot  drift 

Beyond  His  love  and  care. 

Whittier :  The  Eternal  Goodness. 

c.  Ordinary  conversation  and  quiet  discussion,  and,  in- 
deed, all  grave  and  thoughtful  speech  in  which  the  emo- 
tions exert  no  great  influence,  are  characterized  by  a  mod- 
erate degree  of  vocal  force.  In  such  reading  and  speaking, 
the  chief  purpose  of  which  is  to  give  information  and  com- 
municate ideas,  one  should  be  careful  to  avoid  two  prevalent 
faults.  One  is  a  lax,  careless,  repressed  utterance  which 
renders  speech  indistinct  and  listening  difficult ;  the  other 
is  undue  loudness  of  voice,  as  if  all  listeners  were  deaf  and 
must  be  shouted  at.  A  well-modulated  voice  is  a  mark  of 

*  It  is  difficult  to  make  clear  in  writing  the  distinction  between  quiet,  in- 
tense tones,  and  weak  ones.  But  every  one  recognizes  the  difference  between 
the  soft,  ardent  voice  of  a  loving  mother  in  speaking-  to  her  chikl,  and  the 
flat,  lifeless  tone  of  the  inefficient  salesman  who  has  been  discharged  and  is 
serving  his  last  day  behind  the  coimter  and  does  not  care  whether  he  makes 
sales  or  not.  Both  may  speak  with  the  same  degree  of  loudness,  yet  the  tone 
of  one  pleases  and  attracts,  tlie  other  repels  ;  one  is  vibrant  with  emotional 
energy,  the  other  is  the  result  of  mere  physical  effort  sufficient  to  make  the 
sound. 


i:8  ORAL  READING 

refiiieuient,  self-control,  and  regard  for  others.  The  con- 
siderate person  neither  roars  like  a  lion  nor  aggravates  his 
voice  as  "  't  were  any  nigiitingale,"  but  speaks  with  volume 
sufficient  to  make  his  words  easily  audible.  The  golden 
rule  applies  as  well  in  conversation  and  common  reading  as 
to  any  other  action  affecting  others.  Kead  the  following 
quotation,  using  a  moderate  degree  of  volume  and  making 
speech  conversational,  clear,  and  agreeable  to  the  ear. 

Certain  physiologists  are  now  telling  us  that  the  poetic  praise 
of  wine  is  bused  upon  a  mistake.  Alcohol,  they  say,  is  not  a 
stimulant  but  a  depressant.  It  does  not  stimulate  the  imagination 
80  much  as  it  depresses  the  critical  faculty  so  that  dullness  may 
easily  pass  for  wit.  An  idea  will  occur  to  a  sober  man  as  being 
rather  bright,  but  before  he  has  time  to  express  it  he  sees  that  it 
is  not  so.  Under  the  inhibition  of  good  sense  he  holds  his  tongue 
and  saves  his  reputation.  But  in  convivial  company  the  inhibition 
is  removed.  Everybody  says  whatever  is  uppermost  in  his  mind. 
The  mice  play,  not  because  they  are  more  lively  than  before,  but 
only  because  the  cat  is  away. 

Crothers  :  A  Community  of  Humorists. 

d.  Spirited,  happy,  and  playful  thoughts  and  moods,  and 
light,  rapid  action  are  usually  expressed  with  light  (not 
weak)  strokes  of  the  voice.  This  will  be  evident  if  such 
lines  as  follow  are  read  aloud  with  spirit. 

There  's  a  dance  of  leaves  in  that  aspen  bower, 
There  's  a  titter  of  winds  in  that  beechen  tree, 
There  's  a  smile  on  the  fruit,  and  a  smile  on  the  flower, 
And  a  laugh  from  the  brook  that  runs  to  the  sea. 

Bryant :  The  Gladness  of  Nature. 

A  tap  at  the  pane,  the  quick  sharp  scratch 
And  blue  spurt  of  a  lighted  match. 

Browning  :  Meeting  at  Night. 

e.  When  one  speaks  under  conditions  of  intense  excite-, 
ment  or  in  moments  of  triumph  or  strenuous  action,  or  to 


VOCAL  ENERGY  129 

persons  a  long  way  off,  the  voice  is  sometimes  used  to  the 
full  measure  of  its  power.  In  the  interpretation  of  literature 
all  degrees  of  vocal  energy  are  required,  and,  while  the 
voice  is  seldom  taxed  to  its  full  capacity,  the  reader  and 
speaker  should  have  command  of  power  when  it  is  needed.^ 
Try  the  appended  illustrations  a  good  many  times,  taking 
and  holding  a  fuU  breath  and  uttering  the  words  with 
clear,  strong  tones,  and  increasing  the  volume  a  little  with 
each  repetition. 

Hurrah  I  hurrah !  a  single  field  hath  turned  the  chance  of  war! 
Hurrah !  hurrah !  for  Ivry  and  King  Henry  of  Navarre  ! 

Macaulay :  The  Battle  of  Ivry. 

"  Come  back,  come  back,  Horatius  !  " 

Loud  cried  the  Fathers  all ; 
"  Back,  Lartius  !  back,  Herminius  ! 

Back,  ere  the  ruin  fall !  " 

Macaulay  :  Horatius  at  the  Bridge. 

2.  Duration.  The  terra  "  duration  "  refers  to  the  time 
given  to  tlie  utterance  of  vowfd  sounds,  and  chiefly  those 
vowpIs  which  receive  some  degree  of  accent.  It  is  obvious 
that  the  length  of  time  given  to  the  vowels,  together  with 
pauses,  determines  the  general  rate  of  utterance  of  a  pas- 
sage. 

a.  Tlioughts  of  profound  significance,  which  inspire  won- 
der or  awe  or  reverence  and  stir  feeling  strongly  and  deeply, 
tend  to  prolong  the  sounding  of  the  vowels.  Note  how  the 
dignity  and  strength  of  thought  and  feeling  of  the  passage 
quoted  below  are  expressed  by  firm  and  measured  utter- 
ance :  — 

1  Practice  for  vocal  power  helps  to  strengthen  the  breathing  and  gives  vol- 
ume, fullness,  and  roundness  to  tone,  but  such  exercise  should  be  carefully 
done  and  should  not  be  too  long  continued,  else  more  harm  than  good  may 
result  and  the  voice  be  seriously  impaired.  Yelling  at  a  football  game  cau 
hardly  be  commended  as  a  vocal  exercise. 


130  ORAL  RE.\DING 

For  tlio'  the  Giant  Ages  heave  the  hill 
And  break  the  sliore,  and  evermore 
]\Iake  and  break,  and  work  their  will, 
Tlio'  world  on  world  in  myriad  myriads  roll 
Round  us,  each  with  different  powers, 
And  other  forms  of  life  than  ours, 
What  know  we  greater  than  tlie  soul? 
On  God  and  Godlike  men  we  build  our  trust. 
Tennyson  :  Ode  on  the,  Death  of  the  Duke  of  Wellington. 

h.  In  reading  or  speaking  thoughts  of  a  grave  or  serious 
nature,  the  appeal  of  which  is,  however,  rather  to  the  un- 
derstanding than  the  emotions,  the  tones  are  neither  greatly- 
prolonged  nor  shortened,  but  are  of  medium  or  average  du- 
ration. This  is  true  of  most  reading  done  for  information, 
and  the  common  reading  of  magazine  articles,  stories,  and 
thelike.i 

Read  aloud  the  following  paragraph  of  common  prose 
with  special  care  to  give  the  vowels  their  due  quantity,  or 
amount  of  time,  without  drawling  them  on  the  one  hand, 
or,  on  the  other,  clipping  them  so  short  as  to  make  them 
indistinct,  or  eliding  them  altogether. 

One  of  the  most  striking  passages  in  modern  literature  is  the 
paragraph  in  Mr.  8i)encer'si^irsi  Principles,  in  which  he  describes 
the  rhythm  of  motion.  Motion,  he  says,  though  it  seems  to  be 
continuous  and  steady,  is  in  fact  j^ulsating,  undulatory,  rhythmic. 
There  is  everywhere  intermittent  action  and  rest.  The  flag  blown 
by, the  hreeze  floats  out  in  undulations ;  then  the  hranches  oscil- 

^  In  this  kind  of  readinof  there  is  a  strong  tendency  to  attain  speed  at  the 
expense  of  distinctness,  pleasant  variety,  and  natural  expressiveness.  No  more 
important  problem  presents  itself  in  the  study  of  reading  aloud  than  that  of 
common,  everyday  reading.  The  ability  and  habit  of  reading  distinctly, 
pleasantly,  and  well  whatever  comes  into  one's  hand  is  a  rare  accomplishment, 
yet  one  which  a  little  care  and  practice  will  bring.  Let  it  be  remembered 
that  the  purpose  of  rearling  aloud  is  to  communicate  ideas,  not  to  get  over  a 
certain  number  of  words  a  minute.  Xo  prizes  are  offered  for  speed  in  reading 
aloud.  Even  though  the  subject  matter  is  of  casual  interest  only,  there  is 
no  excuse  for  careless,  blurred,  mumbled,  jumbled,  or  monotonous  reading, 
■which  taxes  the  listener  and  renders  listening  difficult.  Anything  th^t  i3 
worth  reading  at  all  is  at  least  worth  reading  distinctly  and  clearly. 


VOCAL  ENERGY  131 

late ;  then  the  trees  begin  to  sway ;  everywhere  there  is  action 
and  pause,  the  rhythm  of  motion. 

Peabody :  Mornings  in  the  College  Chapel  ("  The  Rhythm  of 
Life  "). 

c.  Animated,  joyous,  fanciful  thoughts  and  moods,  and 
gay,  excited,  or  rapid  action  are  naturally  expressed  by  sbort 
vowel  sounds,  as  illustrated  in  the  subsequent  examples. 

Puck.    How  now,  spirit !  whither  wander  you  ? 
Fairy,  Over  hill,  over  dale, 

Thorough  bush,  thorough  brier, 
Over  park,  over  pale, 

Thorough  flood,  thorough  fire, 
I  do  wander  every  where, 
Swifter  than  the  moon's  sphere  ; 
And  I  serve  the  fairy  queen, 
To  dew  her  orbs  upon  the  green. 
Shakespeare  :  Midsummer  Nighfs  Dream,  ii,  i. 

I  sprang  to  the  stirrup,  and  Joris,  and  he  ; 

I  galloped,  Dirck  galloped,  we  galloped  all  three  ; 

*'  Good  Speed  !  "  cried  the  watch,  as  the  gate-bolts  undrew; 

"  Speed !  "  echoed  the  wall  to  us  galloping  through ; 

Behind  shut  the  postern,  the  liglits  sank  to  rest, 

And  into  the  midnight  we  galloped  abreast. 

Browning :  How  They  Brought  the  Good  News. 

3.  Stress.  The  word  "  stress  "  is  used  to  indicate  the 
way  in  which  vocal  energy  is  distributed  over  the  vowels, 
or,  in  other  words,  the  way  the  voice  strikes  them.  The 
greatest  vocal  force  falls,  obviously,  on  accented  vowels. 
But  the  chief  part  of  this  energy  is  not  always  expended 
on  the  same  part  of  the  vowel.  For  example,  we  do  not  say^ 
"  I  'm  sorry,"  with  the  same  stress  we  should  use  in  speak- 
ing a  determined,  or  defiant,  "  I  won't !  "  The  emotional 
import  of  the  words,  the  speaker's  relation  to  the  thought, 
that  is,  his  interest  in  and  responsiveness  to  it,  his  motive 
in  speaking,  and  his  attitude  toward  those  addressed,  as  well 


132  ORAL  READING 

as  the  circumstances  under  which  he  speaks,  determine  how 
the  voice  shall  treat  the  vowels.  The  greatest  degree  of 
energy  may  be  applied  to  (a)  the  first  part  of  the  vowel, 

or  (6)  the  middle,  or  (c)  the  end. 

cf.  In  most  of  our  utterances,  and  in  all  normal  mental 
and  emotional  conditions,  the  greater  energy  is  given  to  the 
first  part  of  the  accented  vowel  in  what  is  known  as  the 
radical,  or  iuital,  stress.  This  stress  is  well  illustrated  in 
statements  of  conviction,  authority,  or  conmiaud.  ^ 

"■  Forward  the  light  brigade  ! 
Charge  for  the  guns !  "  he  said. 
Tennyson ;  Charge  of  the  Light  Brigade. 

Romans,  countrymen,  and  lovers !  hear  me  for  my  cause,  and 
be  silent,  that  you  may  hear  ;  believe  me  for  mine  lionor,  and  have 
respect  to  mine  honor,  that  you  may  believe ;  censure  me  in  your 
wisdom,  and  awake  your  senses,  that  you  may  the  better  judge. 
Shakespeare :  Julius  Ccesar,  iii,  ii. 

h.  Sometimes,  in  the  expression  of  exalted  emotions,  aa_ 
awe,  admiration,  wonder,  and  reverence,  the  vocal  energy 
is  most  strongly  applied  to  the  middle  of  the  vowel.  This 
stress  is  called  "  median,"  and  corresponds  to  the  swell 
of  tone  in  music.  The  difference  \)etween  "  radical "  and 
"median"  stress  is  obvious  in  the  ardent  "Rah!  Rah! 
Rah!  "  of  the  college  yell,  and  the  long  drawn  out  "  Plurrah ! 
Hurrah  !  Hurrah ! "  of  exultation  and  triumph.  Occasionally 

one  hears  the  median  stress  in  boastful,  pompous,  swaggering 

O      <>  0        <>  o_ 

utterances,  as  in  the  sentence :  "  Oh,  I  tell  you,  I  'm  not  afraid 

o         o  o  o  , 

of  you  or  any  of  your  relations."  The  "median  "  stress  pre- 
vails in  many  passages  of  Scripture,  and  in  prose  and  poetry 

1  In  apathetic,  indifferent  reading',  where  the  thoiig'ht  makes  little  impres- 
sion on  the  reader  and  where  he  has  slight  purpose  or  desire  to  communicate  it 
clearly  or  vigorously  to  others,  there  is  little  stress  of  any  kind.  When  there 
is  no  definite  purpose  in  speech  there  is  little  purposeful  direction  of  vocal 
energy.  A  definite  stroke  of  the  voice  on  the  vowels  is  always  perceptible  in 
elear,  convincing,  and  persuasive  speech. 


VOCAL  ENERGY  133 

expressive  of  conceptions  wliicli  strike  the  spirit  with  a  sense 
of  grandeur,  sublimity,  or  power,  and  awaken  awe,  wonder, 
or  reverence.^  No  passage  in  the  Bible  makes  a  stronger 
appeal  to  the  imagination  or  expresses  thoughts  that  have 
in  them  greater  power  to  stir  the  spirit  than  do  the  opening 
verses  of  Genesis.  Yet  this  familiar  passage  is  so  often  read 
in  a  business-like,  prosaic,  and  hurried  utterance,  without 
giving  the  imagination  time  to  dwell  ujDon  the  majesty  of 
the  scene  and  events  described,  that  few  seem  to  realize  its 
sweep,  grandeur,  and  spiritual  appeal.  It  should  be  read 
aloud  again  and  again,  until  something  of  its  power  is  felt 
and  revealed  through  the  voice. 

In  the  beginning  God  created  the  heaven  and  the  earth. 

And  the  eartli  was  mthout  form,  and  void  ;  and  darkness  was 
upon  the  face  of  the  deep.  And  the  Spirit  of  God  moved  upon 
the  face  of  the  waters. 

And  God  said,  Let  there  be  light:  and  there  was  light. 

And  God  saw  the  hght,  that  it  was  good  :  and  God  divided  the 
light  from  the  darkness. 

And  God  called  the  light  Day,  and  the  darkness  he  called 
Night.  And  the  evening  and  the  morning  were  the  first  day. 

Genesis,  I,  1-5. 

c.  Sometimes  in  expressions  of  insistence,  impatience,  in- . 
tolerance,  and  antagonisnij^  the  greater  force  of  the  voice  is 
thrown  toward  the  end  of  the  vowel,  with  cumulative  energ)\ 
This  is  called  final  stress.^  This  peculiar  vocal  action  is  most 

1  There  is  little  profit  in  conscious  attempts  to  acquire  this  style  when  the 
spirit  is  not  moved  to  such  expression.  Deliberate  efforts  to  secure  "  median  " 
stress  are  apt  to  sound  forced  and  unnatural.  Only  as  the  feelings  are  deeply 
stirred  will  the  tone  be  produced  in  this  way.  The  chief  value  of  considering 
it  at  all  is  found  in  the  recognition  that  when  full,  strong'  stress  is  lacking  in 
the  utterance  of  passages  of  genuine  spiritual  appeal,  when  the  tone  is  flat, 
spiritless,  and  impassive,  the  spirit  of  the  reader  is  not  strongly  stirred  or 
profoundly  impressed.  Effort  should  then  be  directed  to  opening  the  mind 
and  awakening  the  soul  to  receive  impressions  of  noble  and  exalted  thoughts. 
Then  only  will  the  expressive  power  of  the  voice  be  realized. 

2  The  over-use  of  the  final  stress  is  a  habit  and  a  fault  whirh  some  indi- 
■vidual.s  occasionally  drop  into.  Its  frequent  use  gives  the  impression  of  peev- 
Whuess,  petulance,  or  irritability,  and  of  an  abnormal  state  of  feeling.  Any- 


134  ORAL  READING 

noticojible  in  proiuinent  and  central  words,  and  is  seldom  the 
dominant  stress  of  the  accented  syllables  of  an  entire  sentence. 

-1  1  -1 

All  miserable,  and  unkind,  untrue, 

Unknigbtly,  traitor-hearted  !  Woe  is  nie  ! 

Tennyson  :   The  Fussing  of  Arthur* 

Ye  gods,  it  doth  amaze  me, 

A  man  of  such  2^  feeble  temper  should 

So  get  the  start  of  the  majestic  world, 

< 
And  bear  the  palm  alone. 

Shakespeare  :  Julius  Ccesar,  i,  iio 

O,  you  and  I  have  heard  our  fathers  say 

<i  <i         <] 

There  loas  a  Brutus  once  that  would  have  brook'd 

The  eternal  devil  to  keep  his  state  in  Rome 

<i 
As  easily  as  a  king. 

Ibido 

I  am  the  king,  and  come  to  claim  mine  own 

<  <  < 

From  an  impostor,  who  usurps  my  throne  ! 

Longfellow:  King  Robert  of  Sicily. 


PROBLEMS  IN  VOCAL  ENERGY 

1.  Earnestness,  reverence,  martial  and  exultant  moods, 

and  solem7iity 

1.       There  is  not,  throughout  the  world,  a  friend  of  liberty  who 

has  not  dropped  his  head  when  he  has  heard  that  Lafayette 

is  no  more,  Poland,  Italy,  Greece,  Spain,  Ireland,  the  South 

American  republics,  —  every  country  where  man  is  struggling 

how,  as  a  modulation  of  voice  for  daily,  common  use,  it  does  n't  need  much 
practice.  In  impressive  readinfj  aloud,  however,  it  is  required,  and  is  a  neces- 
sary part  of  tone  vocabulary,  since  in  literature  we  find  all  thoughts  and 
moods.  If  the  spirit  of  the  line  or  selection  is  caug-ht,  the  stress  will  reveal  it, 
when  once  the  voice  has  been  trained  to  responsive  obedience. 


VOCAL  ENERGY  135 

to  recover  his  birthright,  —  have  lost  a  benefactor,  a  patron, 
in  Lafayette.  And  wliat  was  it,  fellow-citizens,  which  gave  to 
our  Lafayette  his  sj^otless  fame  ?  The  love  of  liberty.  What 
has  consecrated  his  memory  in  the  hearts  of  good  men  ?  Thfe 
love  of  liberty.  What  nerved  his  youthful  arm  with  strength, 
and  inspired  him,  in  the  morning  of  his  days,  with  sagacity 
and  counsel  ?  The  living  love  of  liberty.  To  what  did  he 
sacrifice  power,  and  rank,  and  country,  and  freedom  itself  ? 
To  the  horror  of  licentiousness,  —  to  the  sanctity  of  plighted 
faith,  —  to  the  love  of  libei-ty  protected  by  law.  Thus  the 
great  principle  of  your  Revolutionary  fathers,  and  of  your 
Pilgrim  sires,  was  the  rule  of  his  life  —  the  love  of  libertTf 
.Protected  by  law. 

Everett :  Eulogy  on  Lafayette. 

2.  When  Freedom,  from  her  mountain  height, 

Unfurled  her  standard  to  the  air, 
She  tore  the  azure  robe  of  night. 
And  set  the  stars  of  glory  there. 

J.  R.  Drake  :   The  American  Flag„ 

So       This  I  beheld,  or  dreamed  it  in  a  dream  :  — 
There  spread  a  cloud  of  dust  along  a  plain ; 
And  underneath  the  cloud,  or  in  it,  raged 
A  furious  battle,  and  men  yelled,  and  swords 
Shocked  upon  swords  and  shields.  A  prince's  banner 
Wavered,  then  staggered  backward,  hemmed  by  foeso 
A  craven  hung  along  the  battle's  edge. 
And  thought,  "  Had  I  a  sword  of  keener  steel  — 
That  blue  blade  t'nat  the  king's  son  bears,  —  but  this 
Blunt  thing  — !  "  he  snapt  and  flung  it  from  his  hanidr 
And  lowering  crept  away  and  left  the  field. 
Then  came  the  king's  son,  wounded,  sore  bestead, 
And  weaponless,  and  saw  the  broken  sword, 
Hilt-buried  in  the  dry  and  trodden  sund, 
And  ran  and  snatched  it,  and  with  battle-shout 
Lifted  afresh  he  hewed  his  enemy  down, 
And  saved  a  great  cause  that  heroic  day. 

Sill:  Opportunity 


130  ORAL  READING 

4.  A  ship  lost  at  Hea  for  many  days  siuldenly  sighted  a  friendly 
vessel.  From  tlie  mast  of  the  unfortunate  vessel  was  seen  a 
sii^nal :  "  Water,  water ;  we  die  of  thirst!  "  The  answer  from 
the  friendly  vessel  at  once  came  back :  "  Cast  down  your 
bucket  where  you  are."  A  second  time  the  signal,  "  Water, 
water ;  send  us  water !  "  ran  up  from  the  distressed  vessel, 
and  was  answered :  "  Cast  down  your  bucket  where  you 
are."  And  a  third  and  fourth  signal  for  water  was  answered  : 
"Cast  down  your  bucket  where  you  are."  The  captain  of  the 
distressed  vessel,  at  last  heeding  the  injunction,  cast  down 
his  bucket,  and  it  came  up  full  of  fresh,  sparkling  water  from 
the  uiouth  of  the  Amazon  River.  To  those  of  my  race  who 
depend  on  bettering  their  condition  in  a  foreign  land,  or  who 
underestimate  the  importance  of  cultivating  friendly  relations 
witli  the  Southern  white  man,  who  is  their  next-door  neigh- 
bor, I  would  say  :  '*  Cast  down  your  bucket  where  you  are  " 
—  cast  it  down  in  making  friends  in  every  maidy  way  of  the 
people  of  all  races  by  whom  we  are  surrounded. 

Booker  T.  Washington :  Up  From  Slavery?- 

3*  —       It  is  done ! 

Clang  of  bell  and  roar  of  gun 
Send  the  tidings  up  and  down. 

How  the  belfries  rock  and  reel ! 

How  the  great  guns,  peal  on  peal. 
Fling  the  joy  from  town  to  town  1 

Ring,  0  bells ! 

Every  stroke  exulting  tells 
Of  the  burial  hour  of  crime. 

Loud  and  long,  that  all  may  hear, 

Ring  for  every  listening  ear 
Of  Eternity  and  Time ! 

How  they  pale, 
Ancient  myth  and  song  and  tale, 

*  Used  with  the  kind  permission  of  the  publishers,  Doabieday,  Page  and 
Company. 


VOCAL  ENERGY  187 

In  this  wonder  of  our  days, 
When  the  cruel  rod  of  war 
Blossoms  white  with  righteous  law. 

And  the  wrath  of  man  is  praise ! 

Blotted  out ! 

All  within  and  aU  about 
Shall  a  fresher  life  begin  ; 

Freer  breathe  the  universe 

As  it  rolls  its  heavy  curse 
On  the  dead  and  buried  sin  ! 

It  is  done ! 

In  the  circuit  of  the  sun 
Shall  the  sound  thereof  go  forth. 

It  shall  bid  the  sad  rejoice, 

It  shall  give  the  dumb  a  voice, 
It  shall  belt  with  joy  the  earth ! 

Ring  and  swing. 
Bells  of  joy  !  On  morning's  wing 
Send  the  song  of  praise  abroad ! 
Witli  a  sound  of  broken  chains 
Tell  the  nations  that  He  reigns, 
Who  alone  is  Lord  and  God ! 

Whittier :  Laus  De<K 

Macbeth.  Hang  out  our  banners  on  the  outward  walls ; 

The  cry  is  still,  "  They  come  !  "  Our  castle's  strength 
Will  laugh  a  siege  to  scorn  ;  here  let  them  lie 
Till  famine  and  the  ague  eat  them  up. 
Were  they  not  forc'd  with  those  that  should  be  ours, 
We  might  have  met  them  dareful,  beard  to  beard. 
And  beat  them  backward  home.     {A  cry  of  women  within.^ 

What  is  that  noise  ? 
Seyton.  It  is  the  cry  of  women,  my  good  lord.     {Exif.y 
Macbeth.  I  have  almost  forgot  the  taste  of  fears. 
The  time  has  been,  my  senses  would  have  cool'd 
To  hear  a  night-shriek,  and  my  fell  of  hair 


138  ORAL  READING 

Would  at  a  dismal  treatise  rouse  and  stir 
As  life  were  in  't.    1  liave  siipp'd  full  with  horrors^ 
Direness,  familiar  to  my  slaughterous  thoughts, 
Cannot  once  start  me. 

Re-enter  Serjton 

Wiierefore  was  that  cry? 

Seyton.  The  queen,  my  lord,  is  dead. 

Macbeth.  She  should  have  died  hereafter ; 
There  would  have  been  a  time  for  such  *i  word. 
To-morrow,  and  to-morrow,  and  to-morrow, 
Creeps  in  this  petty  pace  from  day  to  day 
To  the  last  syllable  of  recorded  time ; 
And  all  our  yesterdays  have  lighted  fools 
The  way  to  dusty  death.  Out,  out,  brief  candle ! 
Life  's  but  a  walking  shadow,  a  poor  player 
That  struts  and  frets  his  hour  upon  the  stage 
And  then  is  heard  no  more ;  it  is  a  tale 
Told  by  an  idiot,  full  of  sound  and  fury, 
Signifying  notliing. 

Shakespeare :  Macbeth,  v,  V. 

The  spacious  firmament  on  high, 

With  all  the  blue  ethereal  sky. 

And  spangled  heavens,  a  shining  frame, 

Their  great  Original  proclaim. 

The  unwearied  Sun,  from  day  to  day, 

Does  his  Creator's  power  display  ; 

And  publislies  to  every  land 

The  work  of  an  Almighty  hand. 

Soon  as  the  evening  shades  prevail. 
The  Moon  takes  up  the  wondi-ous  tale ; 
And  nightly  to  the  listening  Earth 
Repeats  the  story  of  her  birtli : 
Whilst  all  the  stars  that  round  her  burn, 
And  all  the  planets  in  their  turn, 
Confirm  the  tidings  as  ihey  roll. 
And  spread  the  truth  from  pole  to  pole. 


VOCAL  ENERGY  139 

What  though,  in  solemn  silence,  all 
Move  round  the  dark  terrestrial  ball  ? 
What  though  nor  real  voice  nor  sound 
Amidst  their  radiant  orbs  be  found? 
In  Reason's  ear  they  all  rejoice, 
And  utter  forth  a  gh)rious  voice ; 
Fur  ever  singing  as  tbey  shine, 
"  The  Hand  that  made  us  is  divine." 

Addison:  Hymn. 

8.  Enter  Cromwell,  amazedly 

Wolsey.  Why,  how  now,  Cromwell ! 

Cromwell.  I  have  no  power  to  speak,  sir. 

Wolsey.  What!  amaz'd 

At  my  misfortunes  ?  can  thy  spirit  wonder 
A  great  man  should  decline  ?  Nay,  an  you  weep, 
I  am  fallen  indeed. 

Cromwell.  How  does  your  Grace  ? 

Wolsey.  Why,  well; 

Never  so  truly  happy,  my  good  Cromwell. 
I  know  myself  now ;  and  I  feel  within  me 
A  peace  above  all  earthly  dignities, 
A  still  and  quiet  conscience.  The  king  has  cur'd  me, 
I  humbly  thank  his  Grace ;  and  from  these  shoulders, 
These  ruin'd  pillars,  out  of  pity,  taken 
A  load  would  sink  a  navy,  too  much  honour. 
O,  't  is  a  burden,  Cromwell,  't  is  a  burden 
Too  heavy  for  a  man  that  hopes  for  heaven ! 

Croviwell.  I  am  glad  your  Grace  has  made  that  right  use 
of  it. 

Wolsey.      I  hope  I  have  :  I  am  able  now,  methinks, 
Out  of  a  fortitude  of  soul  I  feel, 
To  endure  more  miseries,  and  greater  far 
Than  my  weak-hearted  enemies  dare  ofEer. 

Go,  get  thee  from  me,  Cromwell ; 
I  am  a  poor  fallen  man,  unworthy  now 
To  be  thy  lord  and  master.  Seek  the  king ; 
That  sun,  I  pray,  may  never  set !  I  have  told  him 


no  ORAL  READING 

What  and  how  true  thou  art;  lie  will  advance  thee; 

Some  little  nieiuory  of  nie  will  stir  him  — 

I  know  his  noble  nature  —  not  to  let 

Thy  hojieful  service  perish  too.  Good  Cromwell, 

Neglect  him  not ;  make  use  now,  and  provide 

For  thine  own  future  safety. 

Cromwell.  O  my  lord  ! 

Must  I  then  leave  you  ?  must  I  needs  forego 
So  good,  so  noble,  and  so  true  a  master  ? 
Bear  witness,  all  that  have  not  hearts  of  iron, 
With  what  a  sorrow  Cromwell  leaves  his  lord. 
The  king  shall  have  my  service,  but  my  prayers 
For  ever  and  for  ever  shall  be  yours. 

Wolsey.      Cromwell,  I  did  not  think  to  shed  a  tear 
In  all  my  miseries ;  but  thou  hast  forc'd  me, 
Out  of  thy  honest  truth,  to  play  the  woman. 
Let 's  dry  our  eyes  ;  and  thus  far  hear  me,  Cromwell; 
And,  when  I  am  forgotten,  as  I  shall  be. 
And  sleep  in  dull  cold  marble,  where  no  mention 
Of  me  more  must  be  heard  of,  say,  I  taught  thee ; 
Say,  Wolsey,  that  once  trod  the  ways  of  glory, 
And  sounded  all  the  depths  and  shoals  of  honour, 
Found  thee  a  way,  out  of  his  wreck,  to  rise  in ; 
A  sure  and  safe  one,  though  thy  master  miss'd  it. 
Mark  but  my  fall,  and  that  that  ruin'd  me. 
Cromwell,  I  charge  thee,  fling  away  ambition : 
By  that  sin  fell  the  angels ;  how  can  man,  then. 
The  image  of  his  Maker,  hope  to  win  by  it  ? 
Love  thyself  last:  cherish  those  hearts  that  hate  thee; 
Corruption  wins  not  more  than  honesty. 
Still  in  thy  right  hand  carry  gentle  peace, 
To  silence  envious  tongues.   Be  just,  and  fear  not. 
Let  all  the  ends  thou  aim'st  at  be  thy  country's, 
Thy  God's,  and  truth's;  then,  if  thou  fall'st,  O  Cromwell! 
Thou  fall'st  a  blessed  martyr.  Serve  the  king; 
And,  —  prithee,  lead  me  in  : 
There  take  an  inventory  of  all  I  have, 
To  the  last  penny ;   't  is  the  king's  :  my  robe, 
And  my  integrity  to  heaven,  is  all 


VOCAL  ENERGY  141 

I  dare  now  call  mine  own.  O  Cromwell,  Cromwell ! 
Had  I  but  servd  my  God  with  half  the  zeal 
I  serv'd  my  king,  he  would  not  in  mine  age 
Have  left  me  naked  to  mine  enemies. 

Shakespeare :  Henry  VIII,  iii,  ii. 

The  earth  is  the  Lord's,  and  the  fulness  thereof  ;  the  world, 
and  they  that  dwell  therein. 

For  he  hath  founded  it  upon  the  seas,  and  established  it 
upon  the  floods. 

Wlio  shall  ascend  into  the  hill  of  the  Lord  ?  or  who  shall 
stand  in  his  holy  place  ? 

He  that  hath  clean  hands,  and  a  pure  heart ;  who  hath  not 
lifted  up  his  soul  unto  vanity,  nor  sworn  deceitfully. 

He  shall  receive  the  blessing  from  the  Lord,  and  right- 
eousness from  the  God  of  his  salvation. 

This  is  the  generation  of  them  that  seek  him,  that  seek  thy 
face,  O  Jacob. 

Lift  up  your  heads,  0  ye  gates ;  and  be  ye  lift  up,  ye  ever- 
lasting doors ;  and  the  King  of  glory  shall  come  in. 

Who  is  this  King  of  glory  ?  The  Lord  strong  and  mighty, 
the  Lord  mighty  in  battle. 

Lift  up  your  heads,  O  ye  gates ;  even  lift  them  up,  ye 
everlasting  doors  ;  and  the  King  of  glory  shall  come  in. 

Who  is  this  King  of  glory  ?  The  Lord  of  hosts,  he  is  the 
King  of  glory. 

Psalm  XXIV. 

•    2.  Quiet  and  reflective 
,10.  Earth  has  not  anything  to  show  more  fair : 

Dull  would  he  be  of  soul  who  could  pass  by 
A  sight  so  touching  in  its  majesty : 
This  City  now  doth,  like  a  gai  inent,  wear 
The  beauty  of  the  morning  ;  silent,  bare, 
Ships,  towers,  domes,  theatres,  and  temples  li© 
OjX'n  unto  the  fields,  and  to  the  sky  ; 
All  bright  and  glittering  in  the  smokeless  air. 
Never  did  sun  more  beautifully  steep 
In  his  first  splendour,  valley,  rock,  or  hill ; 


142  ORAL  READING 

Ne'er  saw  I,  never  felt,  a  calm  so  deep  I 
The  river  <>;litk't!i  at  his  own  sweet  will : 
Dear  God  !  the  very  houses  seem  asleep ; 
And  all  that  mighty  heart  is  lyin<^  still! 

Wordsworth :  Sonnet  Composed  upon  Westminster 
Bridge. 

11.  But  the  noble  oaks  and  all  these  rock-shading,  stream-em- 
bowering trees  are  as  nothing  amid  the  vast  abounding  bil- 
lowy forests  of  conifers.  During  my  first  years  in  the  Sierra 
I  was  ever  calling  on  everybody  within  reach  to  admire 
them,  but  I  found  no  one  half  warm  enough  until  Emerson 
came.  I  had  read  his  essays,  and  felt  sure  that  of  all  men 
he  would  best  interpret  the  sayings  of  these  noble  mountains 
and  trees.  Nor  was  my  faith  weakened  when  I  met  him  in 
Yosemite.  He  seemed  as  serene  as  a  sequoia,  his  head  in  the 
empyrean  ;  and  forgetting  his  age,  plans,  duties,  ties  of  every 
sort,  I  proposed  an  innneasurable  camping  trip  back  in  the 
heart  of  the  mountains.  He  seemed  anxious  to  go,  but  con- 
siderately mentioned  his  party.  I  said :  "  Never  mind.  The 
mountains  are  calling ;  run  away,  and  let  plans  and  parties 
and  dragging  lowland  duties  all  '  gang  tapsal-teerie.'  We  'II 
go  up  a  canon  singing  your  own  song,  '  Good-by,  proud 
world  !  I  'm  going  home,'  in  divine  earnest.  Up  there  lies  a 
new  heaven  and  a  new  earth ;  let  us  go  to  the  show."  But 
alas,  it  was  too  late,  —  too  near  the  sundown  of  his  life.  The 
shadows  were  growing  long,  and  he  leaned  on  his  friends. 
His  party,  full  of  indoor  philosophy,  failed  to  see  the  natural 
beauty  and  fullness  of  promise  of  ray  wild  plan,  and  laughed 
at  it  in  good-natured  ignorance,  as  if  it  were  necessarily 
amusing  to  imagine  that  Boston  people  might  be  led  to  accept 
Sierra  manifestations  of  God  at  the  price  of  rough  camping. 
Anyhow,  they  would  have  none  of  it,  and  held  Mr.  Emerson 
to  the  hotels  and  trails. 

After  spending  only  five  tourist  days  in  Yosemite  he  was 
led  away,  but  I  saw  him  two  days  more  ;  for  I  was  kindly 
invited  to  go  with  the  party  as  far  as  the  Mariposa  big  trees. 
I  told  Mr.  Emerson  that  I  would  gladly  go  to  the  sequoias 
with  him,  if  he  would  camp  in   the  grove.    He  consented 


VOCAL  ENERGY  143 

heartily,  and  I  felt  sure  that  he  would  have  at  least  one  good 
wild  memorable  night  around  a  sequoia  camp-fire.  Next  day 
we  rode  through  the  magnificent  forests  of  the  Merced  basin, 
and  I  kept  calling  his  attention  to  the  sugar  pines,  quoting 
his  wood-notes,  "  Come  listen  what  the  pine  tree  saith,"  etc., 
pointing  out  the  noblest  as  kings  and  high  priests,  the  most 
eloquent  and  commanding  preachers  of  all  the  mountain  for- 
ests, stretching  forth  their  century-old  arms  in  benediction 
over  the  worshiping  congregations  crowded  about  them.  He 
gazed  in  devout  admiration,  saying  but  little,  while  his  fine 
smile  faded  away. 

Early  in  the  afternoon,  when  we  reached  Clark's  Station, 
I  was  surprised  to  see  the  party  dismount.  And  when  I 
asked  if  we  were  not  going  ujj  into  the  grove  to  camp  they 
said:  *'No;  it  would  never  do  to  lie  out  in  the  night  air. 
Mr.  Emerson  might  take  cold  ;  and  you  know,  Mr.  Muir, 
that  would  be  a  dreadful  thing."  In  vain  I  urged,  that  only 
in  homes  and  hotels  were  colds  caught,  that  nobody  ever  was 
known  to  take  cold  camping  in  these  woods,  that  there  was 
not  a  single  cough  or  sneeze  in  all  the  Sierra.  Then  I  pic- 
tured the  big  climate-changing,  inspiring  fire  I  would  make, 
praised  the  beauty  and  fragrance  of  sequoia  flame,  told  how 
the  great  trees  would  stand  about  us  transfigured  in  the  pur- 
ple light,  while  the  stars  looked  down  between  the  great 
domes  ;  ending  by  urging  them  to  come  on  and  make  an  im- 
mortal Emerson  night  of  it.  But  the  house  habit  was  not  to 
be  overcome,  nor  the  strange  dread  of  pure  night  air,  though 
it  is  only  cooled  day  air  with  a  little  dew  in  it.  So  the  carpet 
dust  and  unknowable  reeks  were  preferred.  And  to  think  of 
this  being  a  Boston  choice  !  Sad  commentary  on  culture  and 
the  glorious  transcendentalism. 

.  .  .  The  poor  bit  of  measured  time  was  soon  spent,  and  while 
the  saddles  were  being  adjusted  I  again  urged  Emerson  to 
stay.  "  You  are  yourself  a  sequoia,"  I  said.  "  Stop  and  get 
acquainted  with  your  big  brethren."  But  he  was  past  his 
prime,  and  was  now  as  a  child  in  the  hands  of  his  affection- 
ate bat  sadly  civilized  friends,  who  seemed  as  full  of  old-fash- 
ioned conformity  as  of  bold  intellectual  independence.  It  was 
the  afternoon  of  the  day  and  the  afternoon  of  his  life,  and 


in  ORAL  RE:\J>ING 

his  course  was  now  westward  tlown  all  the  monntains  into 
tlie  sunset.  The  party  mounted  and  rode  away  in  wondrous 
contentment,  apparently,  tracing  the  trail  through  ueanotims 
and  doi^wood  bushes,  around  the  bases  of  the  bij^  trees,  up  the 
slope  of  the  sequoia  basin,  and  over  the  divide.  I  followed 
to  the  ed'^e  of  the  grove.  Emerson  lingered  in  the  rear  of  the 
train,  and  when  he  reached  the  top  of  the  ridge,  after  all  the 
rest  of  the  party  were  over  and  out  of  sight,  he  turned  his 
horse,  took  off  his  hat  and  waved  me  a  last  good-by.  I  felt 
lonely,  so  sure  had  I  been  that  Emerson  of  all  men  would  be 
the  quickest  to  see  the  mountains  and  sing  them.  Gazing 
awhile  on  the  spot  where  he  Tanished,  I  sauntered  back  into 
the  heart  of  the  grove,  made  a  bed  of  sequoia  plumes  and 
ferns  by  the  side  of  a  stream,  gathered  a  store  of  firewood, 
and  then  walked  about  until  sundown.  The  birds,  robins, 
thrushes,  warblers,  etc.,  that  had  kept  out  of  sight,  came 
about  me,  now  that  all  was  quiet,  and  made  cheer.  After  sun- 
down I  built  a  great  fire,  and  as  usual  had  it  all  to  myself. 
And  though  lonesome  for  the  first  time  in  these  forests,  I 
quickly  took  heart  again,  —  the  trees  had  not  gone  to  Bos- 
ton, nor  the  birds  ;  and  as  I  sat  by  the  fire,  Emerson  was  still 
with  me  in  spirit,  though  I  never  again  saw  him  in  the  flesh. 
...  It  was  seventeen  years  after  our  parting  on  the  Wawona 
ridge  that  I  stood  beside  his  grave  under  a  pine  tree  on  the  hill 
above  Sleepy  Hollow.  He  had  gone  to  higher  Sierras,  and,  as 
I  fancied,  was  again  waving  his  hand  in  friendly  recognition. 

Muir  :   Our  National  Parks. 

12.  Like  a  blind  spinner  in  the  sun, 

I  tread  my  days  ; 
I  know  that  all  the  threads  will  run 

Appointed  ways ; 
I  know  each  day  will  bring  its  task, 
And,  being  blind,  no  more  I  ask. 

I  do  not  know  the  use  or  name 

Of  that  I  spin  ; 
I  only  know  that  some  one  came, 

And  laid  within 


VOCAL  ENERGY  146 

My  liand  the  thread,  and  said,  *'  Since  you 
Are  blind,  but  one  thing  you  can  do." 

Sometimes  the  threads  so  rough  and  fast 

And  tangled  fly, 
I  know  wild  storms  are  sweeping  past, 

And  fear  that  I 
Shall  fall ;  but  dare  not  try  to  find 
A  safer  place,  since  I  am  blind. 

I  know  not  why,  but  I  am  sure 

That  tint  and  place, 
In  some  great  fabric  to  endure 

Past  time  and  race 
My  threads  will  have ;  so  from  the  first, 
Though  blind,  I  never  felt  accurst. 

I  think,  pei'haps,  this  trust  has  sprung 

From  one  short  word 
Said  over  me  when  I  was  young,  — 

So  young,  I  heard 
It,  knowing  not  that  God's  name  signed 
My  brow,  and  sealed  me  his,  though  blind. 

But  whether  this  be  seal  or  sign 

Within,  without, 
It  matters  not.  The  bond  divine 

I  never  doubt. 
I  know  He  set  me  here,  and  still, 
And  glad,  and  blind,  I  wait  His  will; 

But  listen,  listen,  day  by  day, 

To  hear  their  tread 
Who  bear  the  finished  web  away. 

And  cut  the  thread. 
And  bring  God's  message  in  the  sun, 
*'  Thou  poor  blind  spinner,  work  is  done." 

H.  H.  Jackson  :  Spmnm(/A 

*  Copyright,  1873,  by  Little,  Brown  and  Company,  Used  with  the  kind 
permission  of  the  publishers. 


146  ORAL  RE.VDING 

3.  Colloquial 
13.  Yoa  will  have  heard  of  the  interesting  discoveries  recently 
maile,  in  various  parts  of  Western  Europe,  of  flint  implements, 
ohvioiisly  worked  into  shape  by  human  hands,  under  circum- 
stimces  which  show  conclusively  that  man  is  a  very  ancient 
denizen  of  these  regions. 

It  has  been  proved  that  the  old  populations  of  Europe, 
whose  existence  has  been  revealed  to  us  in  this  way,  consisted 
of  savages,  such  as  the  Esquimaux  are  now ;  that,  in  the 
country  which  is  now  France,  they  Imnted  the  reindeer,  and 
were  familiar  with  the  ways  of  the  mammoth  and  the  bison. 
The  physical  geography  of  France  was  in  those  days  differ- 
ent from  what  it  is  now  —  the  river  Somme,  for  instance, 
having  cut  its  bed  a  hundred  feet  deeper  between  that  time 
and  this  ;  and,  it  is  probable,  that  the  climate  was  more  like 
that  of  Canada  or  Siberia,  than  that  of  AVestern  Europe.  .  .  . 

But,  if  we  assign  to  these  hoar  relics  of  long-vanished  gen- 
erations of  men  the  greatest  age  that  can  possibly  be  claimed 
for  them,  they  are  not  older  than  the  drift,  or  boulder  clay, 
which,  in  comparison  with  the  chalk,  is  but  a  very  juvenile 
deposit.  You  need  go  no  further  than  your  own  sea-board  for 
evidence  of  this  fact.  At  one  of  the  most  charming  spots  on 
the  coast  of  Norfolk,  Cromer,  you  will  see  the  boulder  clay 
forming  a  vast  mass,  which  lies  upon  the  chalk,  and  must 
consequently  have  come  into  existence  after  it.  Huge  boulders 
of  chalk  are,  in  fact,  included  in  the  clay,  and  have  evidently 
been  brought  to  the  position  they  now  occupy,  by  the  same 
agency  as  that  which  has  planted  blocks  of  syenite  from  Nor- 
way side  by  side  with  them. 

The  chalk,  then,  is  certainly  older  than  the  boulder  clay. 
If  you  ask  how  much,  I  will  again  take  you  no  further  than 
the  same  spot  upon  your  own  coasts  for  evidence.  I  have 
spoken  of  the  boulder  clay  and  drift  as  resting  upon  the 
chalk.  That  is  not  strictly  true.  Interposed  between  the  chalk 
and  the  drift  is  a  comparatively  insignificant  layer,  containing 
vegetable  matter.  But  that  layer  tells  a  wonderful  history. 
It  is  full  of  stumps  of  trees  standing  as  they  grew.  Fir-trees 
are  there  with  their  cones,  and  hazel-bushes  with  their  nuts ; 


VOCAL  ENERGY  147 

there  stand  the  stools  of  oak  and  yew  trees,  beeches  and  alders. 
Hence  this  stratum  is  appropriately  called  the  "  forest-bed." 

It  is  obvious  that  the  chalk  must  have  been  upheaved  and 
converted  into  dry  land,  before  the  timber  trees  could  grow 
upon  it.  As  the  boles  of  some  of  these  trees  are  from  two  to 
three  feet  in  diameter,  it  is  no  less  clear  that  the  dry  land 
thus  formed  remained  in  the  same  condition  for  long  ages. 
And  not  only  do  the  remains  of  stately  oaks  and  well-grown 
firs  testify  to  the  duration  of  this  condition  of  things,  but 
additional  evidence  to  the  same  effect  is  afforded  l)y  the 
abundant  remains  of  elephants,  rhinoceroses,  hippopotamuses, 
and  other  great  wild  beasts,  which  it  has  yielded  to  the  zeal- 
ous search  of  such  men  as  the  Rev.  Mr.  Gunn. 

When  you  look  at  such  a  collection  as  he  has  formed,  and 
bethink  you  that  these  elephantine  bones  did  veritably  cairy 
their  owners  about,  and  these  great  grinders  crunch,  in  the 
dark  woods  of  which  the  forest-bed  is  now  the  only  trace,  it 
is  impossible  not  to  feel  that  they  are  as  good  evidence  of  the 
lapse  of  time  as  the  annual  rings  of  the  tree-stumps. 

Thus  there  is  a  writing  upon  the  walls  of  cliffs  at  Cromer, 
and  whoso  runs  may  read  it.  It  tells  us,  with  an  authority 
which  cannot  be  impeached,  that  the  ancient  sea-bed  of  the 
chalk  sea  was  raised  up,  and  remained  dry  land,  until  it  was 
covered  with  forest,  stocked  with  the  great  game  whose  spoils 
have  rejoiced  your  geologists.  How  long  it  remained  in  that 
condition  cannot  be  said  ;  but  ''  the  whirligig  of  time  brought 
its  revenges  "  in  those  days  as  in  these.  That  dry  land,  with 
the  bones  and  teeth  of  generations  of  long-lived  elephants, 
hidden  away  among  the  gnarled  roots  and  dry  leaves  of  its 
ancient  trees,  sank  gradually  to  the  bottom  of  the  icy  sea, 
which  covered  it  with  huge  masses  of  drift  and  boulder  clay. 
Sea-beasts,  such  as  the  walrus,  now  restricted  to  the  extreme 
north,  paddled  about  where  birds  had  twittered  among  the 
topmost  twigs  of  the  fir-trees.  How  long  this  state  of  things 
endured  we  know  not,  but  at  length  it  came  to  an  end.  The 
upheaved  glacial  mud  hardened  into  the  soil  of  modern  Nor- 
folk. Forests  grew  once  more,  the  wolf  and  the  beaver  re- 
placed the  reindeer  and  the  elephant ;  and  at  length  what  we 
call  the  history  of  England  dawned. 

Huxley :   On  a  Piece  of  Chalk. 


148  ORAL  READING 

4.  Spirited 
14.  The  wind  one  morning  sprang  up  from  sleep, 
Saving,  "  Now  for  a  frolic  !   now  for  a  leap ! 
Now  for  a  madcap  galloping  chase ! 
I  '11  make  a  commotion  in  every  place !  " 
So  it  swept  with  a  bustle  right  through  a  great  town, 
Creaking  the  signs,  and  scattering  down 
Shutters,  ami  whisking,  with  merciless  squalls, 
Old  women's  bonnets  and  gingerbread  stalls. 
There  never  was  heard  a  much  lustier  shout, 
As  the  apples  and  oranges  tumbled  about ; 
And  the  urchins,  that  stand  with  their  thievish  eyes 
Forever  on  watch,  ran  off  each  with  a  prize. 

Then  away  to  the  fields  it  went  blustering  and  humming, 
And  the  cattle  all  wondered  whatever  was  coming. 
It  plucked  by  their  tails  the  grave,  matronly  cows. 
And  tossed  the  colts'  manes  all  about  their  brows, 
Till,  offended  at  such  a  familiar  salute, 
They  all  turned  their  backs  and  stood  silently  mute. 
So  on  it  went,  capering  and  playing  its  pranks; 
Whistling  with  reeds  on  the  broad  river  banks; 
Puffing  the  birds,  as  they  sat  on  the  spray, 
Or  the  traveler  grave  on  the  king's  highway. 
It  was  not  too  nice  to  bustle  the  bags 
Of  the  beggar,  and  flutter  his  dirty  rags. 
'T  was  so  bold  that  it  feared  not  to  play  its  joke 
With  the  doctor's  wig,  and  the  gentleman's  cloak. 
Tluough  the  forest  it  roared,  and  cried  gayly,  "  Now, 
You  sturdy  old  oaks,  I  '11  make  you  bow !  " 
And  it  made  them  bow  without  more  ado, 
Or  it  cracked  their  great  branches  through  and  through. 
~>  Then  it  rushed  like  a  monster  o'er  cottage  and  farm. 
Striking  their  inmates  with  sudden  alarm  ; 
And  they  ran  out  like  bees  in  a  midsummer  swarm. 
There  were  dames  with  their  kerchiefs  tied  over  their  caps. 
To  see  if  their  poultry  were  free  from  mishaps ; 
The  turkeys,  they  gobbled,  the  geese  screamed  aloud, 
And  the  hens  crept  to  roost  in  a  terrified  crowd  ; 


VOCAL  ENERGY  149 

There  was  rearing  of  ladders,  and  logs  laying  on, 

Where  the  thatch  from  the  roof  threatened  soon  to  be  gone. 

Bat  the  wind  had  passed  on,  and  had  met  in  a  lane 
With  a  schoolboy,  who  panted  and  struggled  in  vain, 
For  it  tossed  him,  and  twirled  him,  then  passed,  and  he  stood 
With  his  hat  in  a  pool,  and  his  shoe  in  the  mud. 

Hewitt :  The  Wind  in  a  Frolic. 

15.  I 

Boot,  saddle,  to  horse,  and  away ! 
Rescue  my  castle  before  the  hot  day 
Brightens  to  blue  from  its  silvery  gray, 

(Chorus)  Boot,  saddle,  to  horse,  and  away  ! 

II 

Ride  past  the  suburbs,  asleep  as  you  'd  say ; 
Many  's  the  friend  there,  will  listen  and  pray 
"  God's  luck  to  gallants  that  strike  up  the  lay  — 

{Chorus)  Boot,  saddle,  to  horse,  and  away  !  '* 

ni 
Forty  miles  off,  like  a  roebuck  at  bay. 
Flouts  Castle  Brancepeth  the  Roundheads'  array : 
Who  laughs,  "  Good  fellows  ere  this,  by  my  fay, 

(Chorus)  Boot,  saddle,  to  horse,  and  away!** 

IV 

Who  ?    My  wife  Gertrude  ;  that,  honest  and  gay, 
Lauglis  wlien  you  talk  of  surrendering,    "Nay  ! 
I  've  better  counsellors  ;  what  counsel  they  ? 

(Chorus)  Boot,  saddle^  to  horse,  and  away  !  " 
Browning:  Cavalier  Tunes, 

5.  Excitement  and  action 

16.  Re-enter  Macduff 

Macduff.  O  horror,  horror,  horror  !    Tongue  nor  heart 
Cannot  conceive  nor  name  thee  ! 
Macbeth.  ) 
Lennox,    j  What 's  the  matter .? 


150  ORAL  READING 

Macdujf.  Confusion  now  hath  made  his  masterpiece. 
Most  sacTJlegioiis  niiinler  liath  broke  o])e 
The  Lord's  anointed  temple,  and  stole  thence 
The  life  o'  the  building ! 

Macbeth.  AVhat  is  't  you  say  ?  the  life  ? 

Lennox.  Mean  you  his  majesty  ? 

Macduff.  Approach  the  chamber,  and  destroy  your  sight 
"With  a  new  Gorgon.    Do  not  bid  me  speak ; 
See,  and  then  speak  yourselves. 

(^Exeunt  Macbeth  and  Lennox.) 
Awake,  awake! 
Ring  the  alarum-bell.  Murder  and  treason  ! 
Banquo  and  Donalbain  !  Malcolm  !  awake  ! 
Shake  off  this  downy  sleep,  death's  counterfeit, 
And  look  on  death  itself !   up,  up,  and  see 
The  great  doom's  image  !  Malcolm  !    Banquo ! 
As  fi-om  your  graves  rise  up,  and  walk  like  sprites, 
To  countenance  this  horror  !    Ring  the  bell.         (^Bell  rings.) 

Shakespeare  :  Macbeth,  ii,  iii. 

17.  English  Herald.  Rejoice,  you  men  of  Angiers,  ring  your 

bells ! 
King  Jolm,  your  king  and  England's,  doth  approach. 
Our  colors  do  return  in  those  same  hands 
That  did  display  them  when  we  first  march'd  forth ; 
Open  your  gates  and  give  the  victors  way ! 

Shakespeare  :  King  John,  n,  i. 

18.  Cateshy.  Rescue,  my  Lord  of  Norfolk  !  rescue,  rescue! 
The  king  enacts  more  wonders  t'lian  a  man. 

Daring  an  opposite  to  every  danger. 
His  horse  is  slain,  and  all  on  foot  he  fights, 
Seeking  for  Richmond  in  the  throat  of  death. 
Rescue,  fair  lord,  or  else  the  day  is  lost ! 

Alarum.   Enter  King  Richard 
King  Richard.   A  horse !    a  horse !    my  kingdom  for  a 

horse ! 
Cateshy.  Withdraw,  my  lord  ;  I  11  help  you  to  a  horse. 


VOCAL   ENERGY  151 

King  Richard.    Slave  !  I  have  set  my  life  upon  a  cast, 
And  I  will  stand  the  hazard  of  the  die. 
I  think  there  be  six  Richmonds  in  the  field ; 
Five  have  I  slain  to-day  instead  of  him.  — 
A  horse  !  a  horse  !  my  kingdom  for  a  horse  !  {Exeunt.^ 

Shakespeare  :  Richard  III,  v,  iv. 

19.  Blow  trumpet,  for  the  world  is  white  with  May ! 
Blow  trumpet,  the  long  night  hath  roU'd  away ! 
Blow  thro'  the  living  world  —  "  Let  the  King  reign !  " 

Shall  Rome  or  Heathen  rule  in  Arthur's  realm  ? 
Flash  brand  and  lance,  fall  battle-axe  upon  helm, 
Fall  battle-axe,  and  flash  brand  !  Let  the  King  reign ! 

Strike  for  the  King  and  live !  his  knights  have  heard 
That  God  hath  told  the  King  a  secret  word. 
Fall  battle-axe,  and  flash  brand  !  Let  the  King  reign ! 

Blow  trumpet !  he  will  lift  us  from  the  dust. 
Blow  trumpet!  live  the  strength  and  die  the  lust! 
Clang  battle-axe,  and  clash  brand  !  Let  the  King  reign ! 

Strike  for  the  King  and  die !  and  if  thou  diest, 
The  King  is  king,  and  ever  wills  the  highest. 
Clang  battle-axe,  and  clash  brand  !  Let  the  King  reign ! 

Blow,  for  our  Sun  is  mighty  in  his  May  ! 
Blow,  for  our  Sun  is  mightier  day  by  day ! 
Clang  battle-axe,  and  clash  brand  !  Let  the  King  reign ! 

The  King  will  follow  Christ,  and  we  the  King, 
In  whom  high  God  liatli  breathed  a  secret  thing. 
Fall  battle-axe,  and  clash  brand  !  Let  the  King  reign  ! 

Tennyson  :   The  Coming  of  Arthur^ 

6.  Radical  Stress 

20.  Polonius.  Yet  here,  Laertes  !  aboard,  aboard,  for  shame  ? 
The  wind  sits  in  the  shoulder  of  your  sail, 

And  you  are  stay'd  for.  There,  my  blessing  with  thee  I 


15^  ORAL  READING 

And  these  few  precepts  in  thy  memory 

Look  thou  character.  Give  thy  thoughts  no  tongue, 

Nor  any  unproportion'd  thought  his  act. 

Be  thou  fauiihai',  but  by  no  means  vulgar ; 

The  friends  thou  hast,  and  their  adoption  tried, 

Grapple  them  to  thy  soul  with  hoops  of  steel ; 

But  do  not  dull  thy  palm  with  entertainment 

Of  each  new-hatch'd,  unfledg'd  comrade.  Beware 

Of  entrance  to  a  quarrel,  but,  being  in, 

Bear  't  that  th'  opposed  may  beware  of  thee. 

Give  every  man  thine  ear,  but  few  thy  voice ; 

Take  each  man's  censure,  but  reserve  thy  judgment. 

Costly  thy  habit  as  thy  purse  can  buy. 

But  not  express'd  in  fancy  ;  rich,  not  gaudy ; 

For  the  apparel  oft  proclaims  the  man, 

And  they  in  France  of  the  best  rank  and  station 

Are  most  select  and  generous,  chief  in  that. 

Neither  a  borrower,  nor  a  lender  be  ; 

For  loan  oft  loses  both  itself  and  friend. 

And  borrowing  dulls  the  edge  of  husbandry. 

This  above  all :  to  thine  own  self  be  true, 

And  it  must  follow,  as  the  night  the  day. 

Thou  canst  not  then  be  false  to  any  man. 

Farewell ;  my  blessing  season  this  in  thee ! 

Shakespeare :  Hamlet,  \  iii. 

21.  But  justice  is  not  this  halt  and  miserable  object !  It  is  not  the 
portentous  phantom  of  despair  ;  it  is  not  like  any  fabled  mons- 
ter, formed  in  the  eclipse  of  reason,  and  found  in  some  unhal- 
lowed grove  of  superstitious  darkness  and  political  dismay ! 
No,  my  lords !  In  the  happy  reverse  of  all  this,  I  turn  from 
the  disgusting  caricature  to  the  real  image  !  Justice  I  now  have 
before  me,  august  and  pure !  the  abstract  idea  of  all  that 
would  be  perfect  in  the  spirits  and  the  aspirings  of  men  ! 
—  where  the  mind  rises  ;  where  the  heart  expands  ;  where  the 
countenance  is  ever  placid  and  benign  ;  where  her  favorite 
attitude  is  to  stoop  to  the  unfortunate  ;  to  hear  their  cry  and 
to  help  them  ;  to  rescue  and  relieve,  to  succor  and  save ;  ma- 
jestic, from  its  mercy  ;  venerable,  from  its  utility ;  uplifted, 


VOCAL   ENERGY  153 

without  pi'ide  ;  firm,  without  obckiracy ;  beneficent  in  each  pref- 
erence ;  lovely,  though  in  her  frown ! 

On  that  justice  I  rely  ;  deliberate  and  sure,  abstracted  from 
all  party  purpose  and  political  speculations  ;  not  on  words, 
but  on  facts  !  You,  my  lords,  who  hear  me,  I  conjure,  by  those 
rights  it  is  your  privilege  to  preserve  ;  by  that  fame  it  is  your 
best  pleasure  to  inherit ;  by  all  those  feelings  which  refer  to 
the  first  term  in  the  series  of  existence,  the  original  compact 
of  our  nature,  our  controlling  rank  in  the  creation.  This  is 
the  call  on  all,  to  administer  to  truth  and  equity,  as  they  would 
satisfy  the  laws  and  satisfy  themselves,  with  the  most  exalted 
bliss  possible  or  conceivable  for  our  nature ;  the  self-ap- 
proving consciousness  of  virtue,  when  the  condemnation  we 
look  for  will  be  one  of  the  most  ample  mercies  accomplished 
for  mankind  since  the  creation  of  the  world ! 

Sheridan  :  Speech  at  the  Trial  of  Warren  Hastings. 

22.  They  pass  me  by  like  sliadows,  crowds  on  crowds, 
Dim  ghosts  of  men,  that  hover  to  and  fro, 
Hugging  their  bodies  round  them  like  thin  shrouds 
Wherein  their  souls  wei*e  buried  long  ago : 

They  trampled  on  their  youth,  and  faith,  and  love, 
They  cast  their  hope  of  human-kind  away, 
With  Heaven's  clear  messages  they  madly  strove, 
And  conquered,  —  and  their  spirits  turned  to  clay  : 
Lo  !  how  they  wander  round  the  world,  their  grave, 
Whose  ever-gaping  maw  by  such  is  fed. 
Gibbering  at  living  men,  and  idly  rave, 
"  We  only  truly  live,  but  ye  are  dead." 
Alas  !  poor  fools,  the  anointed  eye  may  trace 
A  dead  soul's  epitaph  in  every  face ! 

LoweU:  The  Street. 

7.  Median  Stress 

23.  Kemember  now  thy  Creator  in  the  days  of  thy  youth,  while 
the  evil  days  come  not,  nor  the  years  draw  nigh,  when  thou 
shalt  say,  I  have  no  pleasure  in  them  ; 

While  the  sun,  or  the  light,  or  the  moon,  or  the  stars,  be 
not  darkened,  nor  the  clouds  return  after  the  rain : 


154  ORAL  RE.U)ING 

In  the  day  when  the  keepers  of  tlie  house  shall  tremble, 
and  the  strong  men  shall  bow  themselves,  and  the  grinders 
cease  because  they  are  few,  and  those  that  look  out  of  the 
windows  be  darkened, 

And  the  doors  shall  be  shut  in  the  streets,  when  the  sound  of 
the  grinding  is  low,  and  he  shall  rise  up  at  the  voice  of  the 
bird,  and  all  the  daughters  of  musick  shall  be  brought  low; 

Also  when  they  shall  be  afraid  of  tliat  which  is  high,  and 
fear  shall  be  in  the  way,  and  the  almond  tree  shall  flourish, 
and  the  grasshopper  shall  be  a  burden,  and  desire  shall  fail : 
because  man  goeth  to  his  long  home,  and  the  mourners  go 
about  the  streets : 

Or  ever  the  silver  cord  be  loosed,  or  the  golden  bowl  be 
broken,  or  the  pitcher  be  broken  at  the  fountain,  or  the  wheel 
broken  at  the  cistern. 

Then  shall  the  dust  return  to  the  earth  as  it  was :  and  the 
spirit  shall  return  unto  God  who  gave  it. 

Ecclesiastes,  xii,  1-7. 

24.  And  slowly  answer'd  Arthur  from  the  barge : 

*'  The  old  order  changeth,  yielding  place  to  new, 
And  God  fulfils  himself  in  many  ways. 
Lest  one  good  custom  should  corrupt  the  world. 
Comfort  thyself  ;  what  comfort  is  in  me  ? 
I  have  lived  my  life,  and  that  which  I  have  done 
Blay  He  Avithin  himself  make  pure  !  but  thou, 
If  thou  shouldst  never  see  my  face  again. 
Pray  for  my  soul.  More  things  are  wrought  by  prayer 
Than  this  world  dreams  of.  Wherefore,  let  ^hy  voice 
Rise  like  a  fountain  for  me  night  and  day. 
For  what  are  men  better  than  sheep  or  goats 
That  nourish  a  blind  life  within  the  brain. 
If,  knowing  God,  they  lift  not  hands  of  prayer 
Both  for  themselves  and  those  who  call  them  friend? 
For  so  the  whole  round  earth  is  every  way 
Bound  by  gold  chains  about  the  feet  of  God. 
Bat  now  farewell.  I  am  going  a  long  way 
With  these  thou  seest  —  if  indeed  I  go  — 
For  all  my  mind  is  clouded  with  a  doubt  — 


VOCAL   ENERGY  155 

To  the  island-valley  of  Avillon ; 
Where  falls  not  hail,  or  rain,  or  any  snow, 
Nor  ever  wind  blows  loudly  ;  but  it  lies 
Deep-meadow'd,  happy,  fair  with  orchard  lawns 
And  bowery  hollows  crown'd  with  summer  sea, 
Where  I  will  heal  me  of  my  grievous  wound." 

Tennyson:   The  Passing  of  Arthur. 

8.  Final  Stress 

25.  The  train  from  out  the  castle  drew ; 

But  Marmion  stopped  to  bid  adieu  :  — 

"Though  something  I  might  plain,"  he  said, 
"  Of  cold  respect  to  stranger  guest, 
Sent  hither  by  your  king's  behest, 

While  in  Tantallon's  towers  I  stayed. 
Part  we  in  friendship  from  your  land. 
And,  noble  Earl,  receive  my  hand."  — 
But  Douglas  round  him  drew  his  cloak, 
Folded  his  arms,  and  thus  he  spoke :  — 

"  My  manors,  halls,  and  bowers,  shall  still 

Be  open  at  my  sovereign's  will, 

To  each  one  whom  he  lists,  hovve'er 

Unmeet  to  be  the  owner's  peer. 

My  castles  are  my  king's  alone, 

From  turret  to  foundation-stone  — 

The  hand  of  Douglas  is  his  own. 

And  never  shall  in  friendly  grasp 

The  hand  of  such  as  Marmion  clasp."  — 

Burned  Marmion's  swarthy  cheek  like  fire, 
And  shook  his  very  frame  for  ire, 

And  —  "  This  to  me  !  "  he  said,  — 
"  An  't  were  not  for  thy  hoary  beard, 
Such  hand  as  Marmion's  had  not  spared 

To  cleave  the  Douglas'  head  ! 
And,  first,  I  tell  thee,  haughty  Peer, 
He  who  does  England's  message  here, 
Although  the  meanest  in  her  state, 
May  well,  proud  Angus,  be  thy  mate ; 


IJG  ORAL  READING 

And,  Douglas,  move  I  tell  thee  here, 

Even  in  tliy  pitch  of  i)riile, 
Here  in  thy  holil,  thy  vassals  near, 
(Nay,  never  look  upon  your  lord, 
And  lay  your  hands  upon  your  sword,) 

I  tell  thee,  thou  'rt  defied ! 
And  if  thou  saidst,  I  am  not  peer 
To  any  lord  in  Scotland  here. 
Lowland  or  Highland,  far  or  near. 

Lord  Angus,  thou  hast  lied  !  "  — 
On  the  Earl's  cheek  the  flush  of  rage 
Overcame  the  ashen  hue  of  age : 
Fier(!e  he  hroke  forth  :  —  "  And  darest  thou  then 
To  beard  the  lion  in  his  den, 

The  Douglas  in  his  hall  ? 
And  hopest  thou  hence  unscathed  to  go?  — 
No,  by  Saint  Bride  of  Bothwell,  no !  — 
Up  drawbridge,  grooms  —  what,  Warder,  ho ! 

Let  the  portcullis  fall." 

Scott :  Marmion,  vi,  xiii,  xiv. 

26.       Petruchio.  Come  on,  i'  God's  name ;  once  more  toward 
our  father's. 
Good  Lord,  how  bright  and  goodly  shines  the  moon ! 

Katharina.     The    moon !    the  sun :  it    is  not   moonlight 
now. 

Pet.  I  say  it  is  the  moon  that  shines  so  bright. 

Kath.  I  know  it  is  the  sun  that  shines  so  bright. 

Pet.  Now,  by  my  mother's  son,  and  that 's  myself. 
It  shall  be  moon,  or  star,  or  what  I  list, 
Or  ere  I  journey  to  your  father's  house. 
Go  one  and  fetch  our  horses  back  again. 
Evermore  cross'd  and  cross'd  ;  nothing  but  cross'd  ! 

Hortensio.  Say  as  he  says,  or  we  shall  never  go. 

Kath.  Forward,  I  pray,  since  we  have  come  so  far, 
And  be  it  moon,  or  sun,  or  what  you  please. 
And  if  you  please  to  call  it  a  rush-candle, 
Henceforth  I  vow  it  shall  be  so  for  me. 

Pet.  I  say  it  is  the  moon. 


VOCAL  ENERGY  1^7 

Kath.  I  know  it  is  the  moon. 

Pet.  Nay,  then  you  lie  ;  it  is  the  blessed  sun. 

Kath.  Then  God  be  bless'd,  it  is  the  blessed  sun: 
But  sun  it  is  not  when  you  say  it  is  not, 
And  the  moon  changes  even  as  your  mind. 
What  you  will  have  it  nam'd,  even  that  it  is ; 
And  so,  it  shall  be  so  for  Katharine. 

Hor.  Petruchio,  go  thy  ways  ;  the  field  is  won. 

Pet.  Well,  forward,  forward !  thus  the  bowl  should  run, 
And  not  unluckily  against  the  bias. 

Shakespeare  :  The  Taming  of  the  Shrew,  iv,  v. 

9.  For  general  reading 

27.  "  A  merry  Christmas,  uncle  !  God  save  you !  "  cried  h 
cheerful  voice.  It  was  the  voice  of  Scrooge's  nephew,  who 
came  upon  him  so  quickly  that  this  was  the  first  intimation 
he  had  of  his  approach. 

"  Bah  !  "  said  Scrooge.  "  Humbug!  " 

"  Christmas  a  humbug,  uncle ! "  said  Scrooge's  nephew. 
"You  don't  mean  that,  I  am  sure?  " 

"  I  do,"  said  Scrooge.  "  Merry  Christmas  !  What  right 
have  you  to  be  merry  ?  What  reason  have  you  to  be  merry  ? 
You  're  poor  enough." 

"  Come,  then,"  returned  the  nephew  gayly.  "  What  right 
have  you  to  be  dismal  ?  What  reason  have  you  to  be  morose  ? 
You  're  rich  enough." 

Scrooge,  having  no  better  answer  ready  on  the  spur  of 
the  moment,  said  "Bah!"  again;  and  followed  it  up  with 
"  Humbug!  " 

"  Don't  be  cross,  uncle  I  "  said  the  nephew. 

"  What  else  can  I  be,"  returned  the  uncle,  "  when  I  live 
in  such  a  world  of  fools  as  this  ?  Merry  Christmas !  Out  upon 
merry  Christmas !  What 's  Christmas-time  to  you  but  a  time 
for  paying  bills  without  money  ;  a  time  for  finding  yourself  a 
year  older,  and  not  an  hour  richer  ;  a  time  for  balancing  your 
books,  and  having  every  item  in  'em  through  a  round  dozen 
of  months  presented  dead  against  you  ?  If  I  could  work  my 
will,"  said  Scrooge  indignantly,  "  every  idiot  who  goes  about 
with  '  Merry  Christmas '  on  his  lips  should  be  boiled  with 


158  ORAL  READING 

his  own  pudding,  and  buried  with  a  stake  of  holly  through 
his  heart,   lie  sliould  I  " 

"  Uncle  !  "  pleaded  the  nephew. 

"Nephew!"  returned  the  uncle  sternly,  "  keep  Christmas 
in  your  own  way,  and  let  me  keep  it  in  mine." 

"  Keep  it !  "  repeated  Scrooge's  nephew.  "  But  you  don't 
keep  it." 

"Let me  leave  it  alone,  then,"  said  Scrooge.  "Much  good 
may  it  do  you  !  Much  good  it  has  ever  done  you  !  " 

"  There  are  many  things  from  which  I  might  have  derived 
good  by  which  I  have  not  proiited,  I  dare  say,"  returned 
the  nephew,  "  Christmas  among  the  rest.  But  I  am  sure  I 
have  always  thought  of  Christmas-time,  wlien  it  has  come 
round,  —  apart  from  the  veneration  due  to  its  sacred  name 
and  origin,  if  anything  belonging  to  it  can  be  apart  from  tliat, 
—  as  a  good  time;  a  kind,  forgiving,  charitable,  pleasant 
time  ;  the  only  time  1  know  of,  in  the  long  calendar  of  the 
year,  when  men  and  women  seem  by  one  consent  to  open  their 
shut-up  hearts  freely,  and  to  think  of  people  below  them  as 
if  they  really  were  fellow-passengers  to  the  grave,  and  not 
another  race  of  creatures  bound  on  other  journeys.  And 
therefore,  uncle,  though  it  has  never  put  a  scrap  of  gold  or 
silver  in  my  pocket,  I  believe  that  it  has  done  me  good,  and 
will  do  me  good  ;  and  I  say,  God  bless  it !  " 

The  clerk  in  the  tank  involuntarily  applauded.  Becoming 
immediately  sensible  of  the  impropriety,  he  poked  the  fire, 
and  extinguished  the  last  frail  spark  forever. 

"  Let  me  hear  another  sound  from  yow,"  said  Scrooge, 
"  and  you  '11  keep  your  Christmas  by  losing  your  situation  ! 
You  're  quite  a  powerful  speaker,  sir,"  he  added,  turning  to 
his  nephew.   "  I  wonder  you  don't  go  into  Parliament." 

"  Don't  be  angry,  uncle.  Come !  dine  with  us  to-morrow." 

Scrooge  said  that  he  would  see  him Yes,  indeed,  he 

did.  He  went  the  whole  length  of  the  expression,  and  said 
that  he  would  see  him  in  that  extremity  first. 

"  But  why  ?  "  cried  Scrooge's  nephew.  "  AVhy  ?  " 

"  Why  did  you  get  married  ?  "  said  Scrooge. 

"  Because  I  fell  in  love." 

"  Because  you  fell  in  love  !  "  growled  Scrooge,  as  if  that 


VOCAL   ENERGY  159 

were  the  only  one  thing  in  the  world  more  ridiculous  than  a 
merry  Christmas.  "  Good-afternoon  !  " 

"  Nay,  uncle,  but  you  never  came  to  see  me  before  that 
happened.  Why  give  it  as  a  reason  for  not  coming  now  ?  " 

"  Good-afternoon,"  said  Scrooge. 

"  I  want  nothing  from  you ;  I  ask  nothing  of  you  ;  why 
cannot  we  be  friends  ?  " 

"  Good-afternoon  !  "  said  Scrooge. 

"  I  am  sorry,  Avith  all  my  heart,  to  find  you  so  resolute. 
We  have  never  had  any  quarrel,  to  which  I  have  been  a  party. 
But  I  have  made  the  trial  in  homage  to  Christmas,  and  I  '11 
keep  my  Christmas  humor  to  the  last.  So  A  Merry  Christ- 
mas, uncle !  " 

"  Good-afternoon,"  said  Scrooge. 

"  And  A  Happy  New  Year  !  " 

"  Good-afternoon  !  "  said  Scrooge. 

His  nephew  left  the  room  without  an  angry  word,  notwith- 
standing. He  stopped  at  the  outer  door  to  bestow  the  greet- 
ings of  the  season  on  the  clerk,  who,  cold  as  he  was,  was 
warmer  than  Scrooge,  for  he  returned  them  cordially. 

"  There 's  another  fellow,"  muttered  Scrooge,  who  over- 
heard him  ;  "  my  clerk,  with  fifteen  shillings  a  week,  and  a 
wife  and  family,  talking  about  a  merry  Christmas.  I  '11  retire 
to  Bedlam." 

Dickens  :  A  Christmas  Carol. 

28.  There  is  no  escape  by  the  river. 

There  is  no  flight  left  by  the  fen ; 
We  are  compassed  about  by  the  shiver 
Of  the  might  of  their  marching  men. 
Give  a  cheer ! 

For  our  hearts  shall  not  give  way. 
Here  's  to  a  dark  to-morrow 
And  here  's  to  a  brave  to-day ! 

The  tale  of  their  hosts  is  countless, 
And  the  tale  of  ours  a  score  ; 
But  the  palm  is  naught  to  the  dauntless, 
And  the  cause  is  more  and  more. 


160  ORAL  RE.VDING 

Give  a  cheer ! 

We  may  die,  but  not  give  way. 
Here  's  to  a  silent  to-morrow, 
And  here  's  to  a  stout  to-day! 

God  has  said,  "Ye  shall  fail  and  perish; 

But  the  thrill  ye  have  felt  to-night 

I  shall  keep  in  my  heart  and  cherish 

When  tlie  worlds  have  passed  in  night." 

Give  a  cheer ! 

For  the  soul  shall  not  give  way. 

Here  's  to  a  greater  to-morrow 

That  is  born  of  a  great  to-day ! 

Now  shame  on  the  craven  truckler 
And  the  puling  things  that  mope  ! 
We  've  a  rapture  for  our  buckler 
That  outwears  the  wings  of  hope. 
Give  a  cheer ! 

For  our  joy  shall  not  give  way. 
Here  's  in  the  teeth  of  to-morrow 
To  the  glory  of  to-day ! 

Richard  Hovey  :  At  the  End  of  the  Day} 

^  From  More  Songs  from  Vagahondia.    Used  with  the  kind  permission  of 
the  publishers,  Small,  Maynard  &  Company. 


CHAPTER  VII 

RHYTHM 

29.  Rhythm  in  speech 
Broadly  speaking,  all  earnest  and  purposeful  utterance 
is  rhythmical.  In  reading  poetry  or  prose  aloud,  or  in  speak- 
ing your  own  thoughts,  you  will  observe  that  the  progress 
of  your  thought  and  feeling  is  expressed  in  vocal  beats, 
or  pulsations,  recurring  with  more  or  less  regularity  in 
time. 

30.  The  function  of  rhythm 
The  peculiar  function  of  rhYthm  is  the  expression  of 
emotion,^  thojigh  all_welI_ordered__th(mght_and  action  is,  in 
a  sense,  rhythmical.  There  is  rhythm  in  the  multiplication 
taHeT^rhythni  in  one's  walk,  rhythm  in  the  alternation  of 
day  and  night,  and  in  the  sequence  of  the  seasons  of  the 
year.  But  in  vocal  and  written  expression,  sustained  and 
strongly  marked  rhythm  is  the  result  of  sustained,  strong, 
and  controlled  feeling.  "  The  deeper  the  feeling,"  said 
John  Stuart  Mill,  "  the  more  characteristic  and  decided 
the  rhythm."  Poetry,  the  most  perfectly  rhythmic  form  of 
languagCj^  is  essentially  emotional.  When  read  merely  for '^ 
its  ideas,  and  without  regard  to  its  rhythm,  or  its  emotion 
and  spirit,  it  is  no  longer  poetry,  and  its  power,  as  poetry, 
is  lost.  When  speech  becomes  strongly  emotional,  as  in 
highly-wrought  passages  of  oratory,  or  narrative  and  de- 
scriptive prose,  it  tends  to  drop  into  regular  rhythmic  order 
of  equal,  metrical  time  intervals. 


IG'Z  ORAL  READING 

31.   77/ c  rhythm  of  jtrose 

(1)  In  the  thoughtful  and  earnest  utterance  of  prose, 
one  feels  tlie  unduhition  of  vocal  energy  adjusting  itself  in 
hitervals  of  time  to  the  deniands  of  thought  and  feeling. 
Head  aloud  the  following  examples,  and  observe  how  the 
feeling  they  carry  finds  expression  in  sustained  and  decided 
rhythm  of  utterance. 

Let  us  resolve  to  crown  the  miracle  of  the  past  with  the  spec- 

tacle  of  a  republic,  compact,  united,  indissoluble  in  the  bonds  of 
/  /  /  /  /  / 

love  —  loving  from  the  Lakes  to  the  Gulf  —  the  wounds  of  war 
/  /  /  /  / 

healed  in  every  heart  as  on  every  hill  — serene  and  resplendent 
/  /  /  /  / 

at  the  summit  of  human  achievement  and  eartlily  glory  —  blaz- 

ing  out  the  path  and  making  clear  the  way  up  which  all  nations 

/  /  /  /  f 

of  the  earth  must  come  in  God's  appointed  time ! 

Grady  :  The  New  South. 

The  little  voice,  familiar  and  dearly  loved,  awakened   some 

show  of  consciousness,  even  at  that  ebb.  For  a  moment  the  closed 

/  /  /  /  /_ 

eyelids  trembled,   and  the   nostrils  quivered,  and  the  familiar 

shadow  of  a  smile  was  seen.  The  Doctor  gently  brushed  the  scat- 

tered  ringlets  of  the  child  aside  from  the  face  and  mouth  of  the 
/  /  /  /  / 

mother.  Alas,  how  calm  they  lay  there,  how  little  breath  there 
/  /  /  /  '       .  ^      .     . 

was  to  stir  them!  Thus  clinging  fast  to  that  slight  spar  within 
/  /  /  /  / 

her  arms,  the  mother  drifted  out  upon  the  dark  and  unknown 

sea  that  rolls  round  all  the  world. 

Dickens :  Domhey  and  Son,  chap.  i. 

(2)  Though  prose  of  pronounced  emotional  significance, 
such  as  the  above,  tends  to  somewhat  regular  rhythmic 
form,  the  rhythm  of  ordinary  prose  is  determined  largely 


RHYTHM  163 

by  the  reader's  understanding  and  Jntergiretation  of  tlie 
thought.  Since  there  is  no  set  arrangement  of  strong  and 
hght  syllables,  as  in  poetry,  prose  rhythm  is  adaptable  to 
the  speaker's  thinking.  A  change  in  his  understanding  of 
the  meaning  of  a  passage  causes  a  corresponding  change  in 
the  rhythmic  accents  of  his  utterance,  these  being  adjusted 
in  conformity  with  the  sense  emphasis ;  and  though  prose 
is  not  marked  by  that  regularity  of  rhythmical  beat  which 
characterizes  poetry,  the  excellent  rendering  of  it  gives  the 
sense  of  rhythmical  order  and  progress  consistent  with  pur- 
j)oseful  thinking.  As  an  illustration  of  this,  read  aloud  the 
following  examples,  giving  emphasis  only  to  the  words  un- 
derlined, allowing  the  voice  to  pass  lightly  over  intervening 
ones,  and  observe  the  various  shades  of  meaning  brought 
out  by  the  different  readings  and  rhythms.  b*^ 

Will  you  go  with  me  to-morrow? 
Will  you  go  with  me  to-morrow  ? 
Will  you  go  with  me  to-viorrow  ? 

Which  of  the  following  readings  best  expresses  the 
thought  of  the  sentence  ?  Which  has  the  more  regiilar  and 
decided  rhythm  ? 

I  can  easier  teach  twenty  what  were  good  to  be  done,  than  be 
one  of  the  twenty  to  follow  mine  own  teaching. 

I  can  easier  teach  twenty  what  were  good  to  be  done,  than  be 

e  of  the  twenty  to  folloiv  mine  own  teaching. 

I  can  easier  teach  twenty  what  were  good  to  be  done,  than  be 
one  of  the  twenty  to  folloiv  mine  own  teaching. 

Shakespeare  :  Merchant  of  Venice,  i,  iL 


6n> 


32.   The  rhythm  of  poetry 
Since  poetry  is  metrical  in  form,  with  accented  and  un- 
accented syllables  alternating  with  more  or  less  yegnlarity., 
the  rhythmical  stresses  may  not  be  placed  wholly  at  tlie  op- 
tion of  the  reader,  as  in  prose,  but  they  must  conform  to  the 


161  OR.VL  RE.\DING 

metrical  ])lan  of  the  poem.  Observance  of  metrical  form 
iilone  will  not,  of  course,  insure  good  reading.  A  poem  may 
be  spoken  with  strictest  attention  to  its  structure  and  metre 
and  yet  be  but  "  a  dull,  mechanic  exercise."  Emotional  re- 
sponse to  thought  is  vital  in  tlie  reading  of  ])oetrv.  The 
more  strong  and  true  this  response,  the  more  readily  will 
the  utterance  adapt  itself  to  the  metre  and  rhythm  of  the 
verse,  for  these  are  means  by  which  the  feeling  of  the  poem 
is  communicated.  This  being  true,  careful  attention  to  the 
metrical  form  in  reading  aloud  helps  to  a  fuller  and  truer 
appreciation  of  the  spirit  of  the  poem.  Metre  and  rhythm 
are  addressed  to  the  ear.  They  must  be  heard,  if  the  emo- 
tion from  which  they  spring  is  to  be  felt  and  communicated 
to  others.  The  reading  of  verse  with  little  regard  for  its 
metre,  line-length,  or  rhythmic  movement,  betokens  lack  of 
understanding  and  appreciation  and  a  feeble  response  to 
its  spirit.  Sympathetic  adjustment  to  the  thought  of  a 
poem,  then,  is  an^  aid  to  better  metrical  rendering,  and,  on 
the  other  hand,  accurate  rendering  is  essentiaLto-the  appre- 
ciation and  enjoyment  of  it. 

I.  Logical  emphasis  and  metrical  accent,  a.  In  normal 
verse  forms,  logical  eji^jhasis,  that  is,  em])hasis  j'eguired  by 
the  sen^e^of  the  Jijie,  does  not  clash  with  the  regular  metri- 

cal  accent.^ 

/  /  /  / 

The  western  waves  of  ebbing  day 

Rolled  o'er  the  glen  their  level  way ; 

Each  purple  peak,  each  flinty  spire, 

Was  bathed  in  floods  of  living  fire. 

Scott :   The  Lady  of  the  Lake,  Canto  I. 

^  The  temptation  in  readinjj  verse,  -wherein  correspondence  of  metrical  an<J 
sense  accent  is  pretty  consistently  carried  out,  is  to  sacrifice  the  sense  of  the 
line  to  the  metrical  beat.  This  results  in  "  sinpr-song  "  reading.  The  student 
should  remember  that  each  line  adds  some  new  idea  or  imag-e,  and  that  when 
we  are  thinking  well  we  do  not  express  all  thoughts  in  the  same  way,  —  on 
the  same  pitch,  or  with  the  same  melody  of  utterance. 


RHYTHM  165 

/  /  / 

The  charge  of  the  gallant,  three  hundred, 

The  Heavy  Brigade ! 
/  /  /  / 

Down  the  hill,  down  the  hill,  thousands  of  Russians, 
/  /  /  /  / 

Thousands  of  horsemen,  drew  to  the  valley  and  stay'd. 

Tennyson  :   The  Charge  of  the  Heavy  Brigade. 

h.  When  the  logical  emphasis  falls  upon  a  word  not 
metrically  accented,  both  emphasis  and  accent  should  be 
placed  as  thought  and  metre  demand,  the  important  words 
being  given  prominence  without  undue  violence  to  the  reg- 
ular metrical  beat.  In  this  connection  it  should  again  be 
observed  that  spusp.  emphnsi,'-!  vn-A.y  b^  pffpftpfl^  not  alofip  by 
vocal  force,  but  by  change  of  pitch,  pause^or  the  length- 
enin;^'  of  the  emphatic  vowel.  Read  aloud  the  lines  quoted 
below,  first  without  regard  to  the  sense  emphasis  and  with 
attention  only  to  the  metrical  accent ;  then  read  them,  giv- 
ing both  metrical  accent  and  logical  emphasis  as  indicated. 
How  are  the  important  words  emphasized  ?  By  added  force, 
higher  pitch,  or  lengthened  vowel  quantity  ? 

/  /  /  /  /  / 

On  the  pallet  before  her  was  stretched  the  form  of  an  old  man. 

Longfellow :  Evangeline. 

/  /  /  /  / 

The  lost  days  of  my  life  until  to-day. 

Rossetti :  Lost  Days  (Sonnet). 

The  quality  of  mercy  is  not  strained ; 

/  /  /  /  / 

It  droppeth  as  the  gentle  rain  from  heaven 

/  /  /  /  / 

Upon  the  place  beneath :  it  is  ttoioe  bless'd. 

Shakespeare  :  Merchant  of  Venice. 


IfiG  OR.VL  READING 

I  pass,  like  night,  from  land  to  laud; 

I  have  strange  power  of  speech ; 

/  /  /  / 

Tlie  moment  that  his  face  I  see, 

/  /  /  f 

I  know  the  man  that  must  hear  me : 

/  /  / 

To  him  my  tale  I  teach. 

Coleridge  :   The  Ancient  Mariner. 

/  /  /  /  / 

I  could  be  well  mov'd  if  /  were  as  you ; 

/  /  /  /  / 

If  I  could  pray  to  move,  prayers  would  move  me. 

Shakespeare  :  Julius  Ccesar,  iii,  i. 

c.  It  occasionally  happens  that  the  metrical  beat  does 
not  fall  upon  a  syllable  normally  accented  in  prose,  and,  to 
preserve  the  metre,  it  becomes  necessary  to  shift  the  accent 
to  an  otherwise  unaccented  syllable.  Thus,  in  the  speech 
of  Shy  lock  (^Merchant  of  Venice^  iv,  i),  — 
I  have  a  daughter  ; 

Would  any  of  the  stock  of  Barrabas 

Had  been  her  husband  rather  than  a  Christian,  — 

the  usual  prose  pronunciation,  "  Barra6as,"  is  sacrificed  to 
metrical  need,  and  the  stress  is  made  to  fall  upon  the  first 
and  last  syllables  instead  of  on  the  second. 

Sometimes,  when  the  prose  accent  and  the  metrical  beat 
do  not  coincide,  the  stress  is  distributed  between  the  two 
conflicting  syllables  and  a  compromise  is  thus  brought  about 
which  satisfies,  in  a  measure,  both  the  metrical  and  the 
etymological  requirements.  This  sentence  from  Hamlet^  I, 
iv,  affords  a  good  illustration. 

What  may  this  mean, 

That  thou,  dead  corse,  again  in  complete  steel 
Revisit'st  thus  the  glimpses  of  the  moon, 
Makinjf  nijiht  hideous. 


RHYTHM  167 

Here  the  usual  pronunciation,  "  conyjZe^e,"  is  modified  by  a 
division  of  the  stress  between  the  two  syllables  of  the  word, 
the  first  syllable  receiving-  the  greater  stress,  the  last  some- 
what less  than  in  jirose  utterance.  ^ 

d.  Not  only  should  the  metre  of  verse  be  observed  be- 
cause poetic  form  demands  it,  but  it  will  be  found  that  the 
problem  of  rendering  the  meaning  of  difficult  lines  will 
often  be  simplified  by  giving  due  regard  to  metrical  accent. 
A  good  example  of  this  is  found  in  the  opening  lines  of 
Shakespeare's  Hamlet :  — 

Francisco  at  his  post.  Enter  to  him  Bernardo 
Bernardo.   Who  's  there  ? 

Francisco.  Nay,  ans\ver  me  ;  stand  and  unfold  yourself. 
Bernardo.    Long  live  the  king ! 
Francisco.  Bernardo  ? 
Bernardo.    He. 

Many  students,  reading  Francisco's  first  speech,  will  give 
emphasis  to  "  answer,"  and  little  or  none  to  "  me."  But 
analysis  of  the  situation  will  make  it  apparent  that  such 
reading  fails  to  give  the  significance  that  the  line  is  in- 
tended to  convey.  Bernardo,  suddenly  coming  upon  Fran- 
cisco, who  is  standing  guard  before  the  king's  castle  at 
midnight,  exclaims :  "  Who  's  there  ?  "  But  it  is  not  for  him 
to  challenge  the  guard.  Why  does  he  do  it  ?  The  truth  is 
that  Bernardo  knows  of  the  appearance  of  the  ghost  of  the 
dead  king  on  two  previous  occasions  and  on  this  very  plat- 
form where  the  men  now  face  each  other,  and  he  half  ex- 
pects to  encounter  the  apparition  again.  His  hasty  excla- 
mation upon    seeing  the    guard,  and  Francisco's   prompt 

^  It  should  be  erplained  here  that,  in  conforming'  to  the  metrical  stres.s  re- 
quired by  the  lines  quoted  from  Shakespeare  above,  we  are  pronouncinjj  the 
■words  as  they  were  commonly  spoken  by  Shakespeare  and  his  contemporaries. 
The  point  is  that,  though  words  may  underjjo  chansfe  in  accent  and  pro- 
nunciation, we  are  not  justified  in  ignoring  metrical  form. 


168  ORAL  READING 

counter-challenge,  "  Nay,  answer  me ;  stand  and  unfold 
yourself  "  in  which  he  reminds  Bernardo  that  he,  not  Ber- 
nardo, is  on  duty,  makes  it  clear  that  the  latter  has  allowed 
his  apprehension  and  excitement  to  get  the  better  of  his 
judgment.  Even  though  the  lines  are  being  read  for  the 
first  time,  and  the  reader  is  ignorant  of  the  situation,  which 
is  explained  in  the  subsequent  conversation,  the  accurate 
rendering  of  Francisco's  speech  will  make  him  aware  of  the 
fact  that,  for  some  reason,  both  men  are  strangely  alert 
and  apprehensive  of  some  ominous  event.  And  this  ac- 
curate rendering  depends  upon  observing  the  metrical 
construction.  It  will  be  observed  also  that  the  effect  of 
excitement  is  heightened  by  the  short  speeches  of  the  two 
men. 

Note  how  attention  to  the  metrical  beat  in  the  following 
quotations  helps  to  an  accurate  and  forceful  rendering  of 
the  lines.  Were  the  sentences  read  as  prose,  more  or  less 
hastily,  the  importance  of  the  words  metrically  emphasized 
in  the  verses  might  easily  be  overlooked. 

O  that  a  man  might  know 
/  /  /  ^  /  / 

The  end  of  this  day's  business  ere  it  come  ! 

But  it  sufficeth  that  the  day  will  end, 

And  then  the  end  is  known. 

Shakespeare :  Julius  Ccesar,  v,  L 

/       /         /        /  / 

For  Brutus  only,  overcame  himself, 

/  /  /  /  / 

And  no  man  else  hath  honor  by  his  death. 

Ibid.,  V,  V. 


You  wrong'd  yourself  to  write  in  such  a  case. 

Ibid.,  rv,  iii. 


RHYTHM  169 

/  /  /  /  /_ 

He  hates  our  sacred  nation  ;  and  he  rails, 

/  /  /  /  / 

Even  there  where  merchants  most  do  congregate^ 

/  /  /  /  _/ 

On  me,  my  bargains,  and  my  well-worn  thrift, 

/  /  /  /  / 

Which  he  calls  interest.  Cursed  be  my  tribe 

If  I  forgive  him  ! 

Shakespeare  :  Merchant  of  Venice,  i,  iii. 

2.  Line  length,  a.  As  it  is  essential  that  the  rhythm  of 
metrical  beats  should  be  observed  in  reading  poetry,  it  is 
likewise  imjjortant  that  the  reader  should  regard  the  indi- 
vidual lines,  or  verses,  of  a  poem  as  integral  parts  of  it,  and 
he  should  be  careful  to  preserve,  whenever  possible,  the 
integrity  of  the  line  as  a  whole.  Generally  speaking  the 
rhetorical  or  sense  pause  falls  with  the  usual  verse  pause 
at  the  end  of  the  line,  as  in  the  following:  — 

This  above  all :  to  thine  own  self  be  true, 
And  it  must  follow,  as  the  night  the  day, 
Thou  canst  not  then  be  false  to  any  man. 

Shakespeare  :  Hamlet,  l,  iii. 

But  there  are  many  instances  in  which  the  sense  is  nov 
complete  with  the  end  of  the  verse  and  the  thought  is  car- 
ried over  into  the  next,  in  what  are  known  as  "  run-on  "  lines. 
Such  constructions  are  frequent  in  blank  verse.  Here  is  a 
good  example  from  the  Merchant  of  Venice,  i,  ii. 

Within  these  two  months,  that 's  a  month  before 

This  bond  expires,  I  do  expect  return 

Of  thrice  three  times  the  value  of  this  bond. 

The  careful  reader,  in  voicing  these  lines,  will  mark  the 
end  of  the  verses  with  a  slight  suspending  of  the  tone  on 
"  before "  and  "  return,"  and,  while  guarding  against  a 
forced  or  mechanical  rendering,  will  not  sacrifice  the  pleas- 
urable sense  of  rhythmic  order  and  completeness  to  the 


170  OKAL  11E.VDING 

tlomand  of  prosaic  ears.  It  will  be  found  that  the  sense  of 
line  e'onipleteness  may  sometimes  be  given  by  a  barely  per- 
ceptible pause,  or  by  a  slight  upward  iutlection,  or  by  a 
change  in  pitch,  which  the  sense  of  the  line  and  the  reader's 
ear  must  determine.  IMore  often,  however,  the  end  of  the  line 
is  indicated,  as  in  the  foregoing  example,  by  suspending  the 
voice  a  little  on  the  metrically  accented  vowel  of  the  last 
word  of  the  verse. ^  Other  examples  are:  — 

And  Arthur  yet  had  done  no  deed  of  arms, 

But  heard  the  call  and  came ;  and  Guinevere 
Stood  hy  the  castle  wall  to  watch  him  pass. 

Tennyson:   The  Coming  of  Arthur. 

There  is  sweet  music  here  that  softer  falls 
Than  petals  from  hlovvn  roses  on  the  grass. 

Tennyson :   The  Lotus-Eaters. 

We  two  will  lie  i'  the  shadow  of 
/  /  / 

That  living  mystic  tree. 

Rossetti :  The  Blessed  Damozel. 

h.  It  may  be  worth  while,  in  this  connection,  to  call 
attention  to  the  tendency  of  untrained  readers  of  poetry  to 
elide  the  sometimes  metrically  accented  final  syllable  "  ed  " 
of  words  in  which  the  syllable  is  not  sounded  in  prose  and 

1  The  ability  to  render  "run-on"  lines  -with  clue  regard  at  once  to  the 
rhythm  and  tlie  thouf^ht,  and  with  an  effect  of  naturalness  withal,  conies  only 
with  the  education  of  a  seusd  of  poetic  form  and  much  practice  in  reading 
Terse  aloud. 

"  It  should  be  noted,"  says  Professor  Alden,  in  his  Introduction  to  Poetry^ 
p.  2G-1,  "  that,  even  where  there  is  little  or  no  rhetorical  pause  indicated,  a 
good  reader  may  easily  make  a  slight  metrical  pause  at  the  end  of  the  verse 
■without  dropping  the  pitch  of  the  voice  and  thus  injuring  the  rhetorical  ex- 
pression. No  matter  how  free  be  the  use  of  run-on  lines,  poetry  is  not  well 
read  when  a  listener  cannot  distinguish  it  from  prose."  (The  author  wishes 
to  acknowledge  here  his  indebtedness  in  the  preparation  of  this  chapter  to  the 
volume  mentioned,  and  also  to  Professor  Alden's  English  Verse.  To  those 
interested  in  the  technique  aud  art  of  poetry  these  books  are  especially  com- 
mended.) 


RHYTHM  171 

common  speech.  Usually,  when  the  metre  of  a  line  requires 
the  accent  of  this  otherwise  suppressed  syllable,  in  such 
words,  for  example,  as  "  nourished,"  the  fact  is  indicated 
either  by  placing  an  accent  sign  over  the  syllable,  thus : 
"nourished,"  or  by  the  practice  of  writing  "'d"  for  the 
*'ed"  of  words  in  which  the  syllable  is  not  to  be  given 
quantity.  In  the  latter  case  "nourished,"  if  it  is  to  be 
sounded  as  a  two-syllable  word,  would  be  written  "  nour- 
ish'd."  This  method  implies  that  all  final  "  ed  "  syllables 
not  so  abbreviated  are  to  be  voiced.  Thus,  in  the  lines 

The  quality  of  mercy  is  not  strain'd, 
and 

it  becomes 
The  throned  monarch  better  than  his  crown, 

the  final  syllable  of  "  strain'd "  is  elided  while  that  of 
*'  throned  "  is  sounded. 

The  reader  should  be  careful  to  give  quantity  to  final 
"  ed  "  syllables  whenever  the  metre  and  the  line  length  de- 
mand it.  Note  that  in  the  first  example  given  below  the 
sounding  of  this  syllable  in  "  nourished  "  is  required  both 
by  the  metre  and  the  rhyme. 

Tell  nie  where  is  fancy  bred, 
Or  in  the  heart  or  in  the  head  ? 
How  begot,  how  nourished  ? 

Shakespeare  :  Merchant  of  Venice,  iii,  ii. 

It  must  not  be ;  there  is  no  power  in  Venice 
Can  alter  a  decree  established. 

Ibid.,  IV,  i. 

In  the  afternoon  they  came  unto  a  land 
In  which  it  seemed  always  afternoon. 

Tennyson :   The  Lotus-Eaters. 


172  ORAL  RE.VDING 

33.  ItJnjthm  and  time 

One  of  the  chmiicteil^itici  QLa'hythin  is.  moveraent  in 
j:)!!!!'.  Though  all  speech  rhythm  implies  some  form  of  metri- 
cal arrangement  of  accented  and  unaccented  syllables,  ir- 
regidar  in  prose,  more  regular  in  verse,  t^e  general  rate  of 
utterance^  or  tempo^  as  it  is  called  in  music,  is  determined 
by  the  speaker's  mind,  the  earnestness  and  intensit}^  of  his 
feeling",  and  the  importance  and  weight  of  the  thought  and 
the  mood  induced  by  it.  Within  certain  limits  imposed  by 
vowel  quantities  of  words,  any  metre  may  be  rendered  in 
any  time.  While  in  poetry  certain  metrical  forms  are  bet- 
ter adapted  to  the  expression  of  given  moods  than  others, 
as  for  example,  the  three-syllable  foot  (dactylic  as  in  "  mer- 
rily"; anapestic,  as  in  "persevere  "}  for  spirited,  happy 
emotions,  illustrated  in  such  lines  as 

/  /  /  f 

Hail  to  the  chief  who  in  triumph  advances. 

Scott :  Boat  Song,  from  Lady  of  the  Lake. 

/  /  /  / 

As  light  as  the  tips  of  the  drops  of  the  rain. 

Riley :  Out  to  Old  Aunt  Mary's. 

and  the  two-syllable  foot  (trochaic,  as  in  "  sorrow "  ; 
iambic,  as  in  "  forget ")  for  grave  and  tragic  moods,  found 
in 

O  the  long  and  dreary  Winter ! 

Longfellow:  Hiawatha. 

/  /  /      /  / 

In  sooth,  I  know  not  why  I  am  so  sad. 

Shakespeare  :  Merchant  of  Venice,  i, 

the  spirit  of  a  poem  and  the  character  and  significance  of 
its  thought  are  communicated  rather  through  the  general 
time  given  to  the  utterance  of  the  lines  than  through  metri- 


RHYTHM  173 

cal  form.i  The  beats  occur  at  approximately  regular  time 
intervals,  but  these  intervals  may  be  long  or  short,  as  the 
thouofht  and  its  associated  emotions  dictate.  The  movement 
of  speech,  for  the  sake  of  illustration  and  practice,  may  be 
designated  in  a  general  way  as  slow,  medium,  and  fast.  ^ 

I.  Slow  time.  Thoughts  of  the  mysterious,  the  wonder- 
. f ul _and  sublime,  and  all  such  as  make  stron^_dema3ads 
on  imagination_apd  feelino-.,  and^  m  which  the  "  mind's 
reach  exceeds  its  grgsp/'  find  expression  in  slow  move- 
ment. The  weight  and  significance  of  a  thought  is  measured 
in  time,  and  time  is  required  for  the  mind  to  think  broadly 
and  deeply. 

Our  birth  is  but  a  sleep  and  a  forgetting : 
The  Soul  that  rises  with  us,  our  life's  Star, 
Hath  had  elsewhere  its  setting, 

And  conietli  from  afar : 
Not  in  entire  forgetfulness, 
And  not  in  utter  nakedness, 
But  trailing  clouds  of  glory  do  we  come 
From  God,  who  is  our  home. 

Wordsworth :  Inthnations  of  Immortality,  v. 

1  The  relation  of  rhythm  to  metre  may  be  illustrated  in  this  way.  A  boli 
of  cloth  being  measured  with  a  yardstick  may  be  passed  slowly  or  rapidly 
under  the  measure.  But  whether  the  rate  be  fast  or  slow,  regular  or  irreg- 
ular, the  standard  of  measurement  remains  unchanged.  In  like  manner  the 
rhythm  of  a  given  poem  may  be  rapid  or  slow;  it  may  change  with  the  chang- 
ing mood  of  the  speaker  or  with  different  occasions ;  but  the  metre,  or  meas* 
ure,  remains  constant. 

2  The  illustrations  of  Rhythm  and  Time  are  offered  merely  to  show  the 
expressive  value  and  significance  of  time  in  speech.  As  shades  of  thought  and 
feeling  are  infinite,  so  we  may  expect  to  find,  in  all  truly  expressive  utterance, 
all  degrees  of  variation  in  the  time  between  the  extremes  illustrated.  No 
arbitrary,  fixed  standard  of  time  can  be  set  for  the  reading  of  any  given  piece 
of  literature  or  for  any  line  or  portion  of  it.  At  best  only  tlie  approximate  time 
can  be  suggested.  The  rate  of  speech  will  vary  with  individuals  and  with  the 
changing  thought  and  mood  of  the  piece  and  of  the  reader,  and  there  is  no  more 
certain  test  of  the  reader's  understanding  of  the  meaning  of  what  he  reads, 
and  of  his  participation  in  the  spirit  of  it,  than  that  of  the  rate  of  his  utter- 
ance as  his  reading  progresses.  Mere  slowness,  for  the  sake  of  slowness,  or 
rapidity  for  rapidity  alone,  avail  little  in  reading.  Only  as  these  spring  from 
a  realization  of  the  spirit  of  the  piece  itself  are  they  truly  expressive. 


171  ORAL  READING 

2.  Medium  time.  In__s£riQus-CQnYexsatioii  and  ordijiary 

ijallii -tliseussiaii,  —  in  all  grave  talk,  indeed*  in  which  no 

particidarly  strong  appeal  is  made  tp_theemoti9B.a»  —  the  rate 

of   utterance  is  normally  average,    that   is,   njither— pro- 

iouncedljLslow^jior^  rapid . 

Now,  I  tell  you,  a  poem  must  be  kept  and  used,  like  a  meer- 
schaum, or  a  violin.  A  poem  is  just  as  porous  as  the  meerschaum; 
the  more  porous  it  is,  the  better.  I  mean  to  say  that  a  genuine 
poem  is  capable  of  absorbing  an  indefinite  amount  of  the  essence 
of  our  own  humanity,  —  its  tenderness,  its  heroism,  its  regrets,  its 
aspirations,  so  as  to  be  gradually  stained  through  with  a  divine 
secondary  color  derived  from  ourselves.  So  you  see  it  must  take 
time  to  bring  the  sentiment  of  a  poem  into  harmony  with  our 
nature,  by  staining  ourselves  through  every  thought  and  image 
our  being  can  penetrate. 

Holmes :  The  Autocrat  of  the  Breakfast  Table. 

3.  Fast  time.  It  is  natural  ±0  voice  Imoyant,  playful, 
fanciful,  and  joyous  thoughts  more  rapidly  and  lightly  than 
those  of  a  solemn^  sober,  and  serious  nature.  The  spirit  of 
Riley's  The  South  Wind  and  the  Sun,  for  example,  is  lost 
if  the  lines  are  read  with  ponderous  slowness,  or  even  with 
the  average  time  of  grave  conversation.  To  illustrate,  read 
the  opening  lines  of  the  poem,  first  with  deliberate,  or  slow 
utterance,  and  then  with  the  spirited  movement  their  viva- 
cious mood  demands,  and  observe  how  much  more  consist- 
ent the  latter  reading  is  and  how  it  helps  one  to  catch  the 
spirit  of  the  verse. 

O  the  South  Wind  and  the  Sun ! 

How  each  loved  the  other  one— 
Full  of  fancy  —  full  of  folly  — 

Full  of  jollity  and  fun  ! 

How  they  romped  and  ran  about, 

Like  two  boys  when  school  is  out, 
With  glowing  face,  and  lisping  lip, 

Low  laugh,  and  lifted  shout ! 


RHYTHM  175 

Excitement  and  tense,  strenuous,  quick  action  also  obvi- 
ously find  their  true  expression  in  accelerated  utterance. 
This  may  be  illustrated  by  contrast,  as  was  done  in  the  pre- 
ceding example.  In  reading  the  following  lines  from  Scott's 
Marmlon  (Canto  vi),  set  an  arbitrarily  slow  pace  in  tell- 
ing of  the  flight  of  Marmion  from  the  castle  of  his  enemy, 
Douglas.  Then  read  the  lines  with  that  rate  of  speech  which 
the  hasty  action  prompts.  What  is  the  difference  in  the 
effect  of  the  two  readings? 

Lord  Marmion  turned,  —  well  was  his  need, 

And  dashed  the  rowels  in  his  steed, 
Like  arrow  through  the  archway  sprung, 
The  ponderous  grate  behind  liim  rung : 
To  pass  there  was  such  scanty  room, 
The  bars,  descending,  razed  his  plume. 

The  steed  along  the  drawbridge  flies, 
Just  as  it  trembled  on  the  rise ; 
Not  lighter  does  the  swallow  skim 
Along  the  smooth  lake's  level  brim  : 
And  when  Lord  Marmion  reached  his  band. 
He  halts,  and  turns  with  clenched  hand, 
And  shout  of  loud  defiance  pours, 
And  shook  his  gauntlet  at  the  towers. 

PROBLEMS   IN    RHYTHM 

1.  Rhythm  of  prose. 
I 

!  /  /  /  /  / 

1.  *     I  long  ago  lost  a  hound,  a  bay  horse,  and  a  turtle-dove,  and 

am  still  on  their  trail.  Many  are  the  travellers  I  have  spoken 

concerning  them,  describing   their  tracks   and  what  calls 

/  /  /  / 

they  answered  to.   I  have  met  one  or  two  who  had  heard 

the  hound,  and  the  tramp  of  the  horse,  and  even  seen  the 


176  ORAL  READING 

/  /  /  /  / 

dove  disappear  behind  a  cloud,  and  they  seemed  as  anxious 

/  /  /  / 

to  recover  them  as  if  they  had  lost  them  themselves. 

Thoreau  :  Walden  (Essay  on  "  Economy  "). 

1  /  /  /  / 

V   2.       There  is  a  modern  English  picture  which  the  genius  of 
/  /  /  /  /  / 

Hawthorne  might  have  inspired.  The  painter  calls  it,  "  How 

/  /  /  /  / 

they  met  themselves."    A  man  and  a  woman,  haggard  and 

/  /  /  /  /        /  / 

weary,  wandering  lost  in  a  sombre  wood,  suddenly  meet  the 

/  /  /  /  /  / 

shadowy  figures  of  a  youth  and  a  maid.    Some  mysterious 

/  /  /  /  /  / 

fascination  fixes  the  gaze  and  stills  the  hearts  of  the  wan- 

/  /  / 

derers,  and   their   amazement  deepens   into  awe,  as  they 

gradually  recognize  themselves  as  once  tliey  were  ;  the  soft 

bloom  of  youth  upon  their  rounded  cheeks,  the  dewy  light 

/  /  /  /  / 

of  hope  in  their  trusting  eyes,  exulting  confidence  in  their 

/  /  /  /  /  / 

springing  step,  themselves  blithe  and  radiant  with  the  glory 

/  /  /  /  /  / 

of  the  dawn.    To-day  and  here  we  meet  ourselves.    Not  to 

/  /  /  /  /  / 

these  familiar  scenes  alone  —  yonder  college-green  with  its 

/  /  /         /        /  / 

reverend  traditions  ;  the  historic  bay  beating  forever  with  the 

/  /  /  /  /  / 

mufiled  oars  of  Barton  and  of  Abraham  Whipple;  here, 

/  /  /  /  /  / 

the  humming  city  of  the  living ;  there,  the  peaceful  city  of 

/  /  /     /  /  /       / 

the  dead ;  —  not  to  these  only  or  chiefly  do  we  return,  buf 

to  ourselves  as  we  once  were.  .  .  . 

/  /  /  /  f  / 

Happy  the  worn  and  weary  man  and  woman  in  the  pic- 
/  /  /  /  / 

ture,  could  they  have  felt  their  older  eyes  still  glistening 

with  that  earlier  light,  and  their  hearts  yet  beating  with 
///  /       /  /// 

undiminished  sympathy  and  aspiration.  Happy  we,  brethren, 

/  /  /  /  / 

whatever  may  have  been  achieved,  whatever  left  undone,  if. 


RHYTHM  177 

'    .  '  ''  .       '  .         ■^ 

returning  to  the  home  of  our  earlier  years,  we  bring  with 

us  the  illimitable  hope,  the  unchilled  resolution,  the  inex- 

tinguishable  faith  of  youth.  It  was  as  scholars  that  you  were 

here  ;  it  is  to  the  feeling  and  life  of  scholars  that  you  return. 
George  William  Curtis:  The  Leadership  of  Educated  Men} 

4  3.       It  may  be  easy  to  prove  that  the  ascent  of  Apollo  in  his 

/         /  /  /  /  / 

chariot  signifies  nothing  but  the  rising  of  the  sun.  But  what 

does  the  sunrise  itself  signify  to  us  ?  .  .  .  If,  for  us  also,  as 

/  /  /  /  / 

for  the  Greek,  the  sunrise  means  daily  restoration  to  the 

sense  of  passionate  gladness  and  of  perfect  life,  —  if  it  means 

the  thrilling  of  new  strength  through  every  nerve,  —  the 

shedding  over  us  of  a  better  peace  than  the  peace  of  night, 

in  the  power  of  the  dawn  ;  —  if  the  sun  itself  is  an  influence,  to 

/    /  /  /  /  / 

us  also,  of  spiritual  good  —  and  becomes  thus  in  reality,  not 

in  imagination,  to  us  also,  a  spiritual  power,  —  we  may 
/  /  /  / 

then  soon  over-pass  the  narrow  limit  of  conception  which 
/  /  /  /  / 

kept  that  power  impersonal,  and  rise  with  the  Greek  to  the 
/  /  /  /  /  / 

thought  of  an  angel  who  rejoiced  as  a  strong  man  to  run 

his  course,  whose  voice,  calling  to  life  and  to  labor,  rang 

round  the  earth,  and  whose  going  forth  was  to  the  ends  of 

heaven. 

Ruskin :  The  Queen  of  the  Air. 

\  4.  Moreover,  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  as  they  went  on, 
Faithful,  as  he  chanced  to  look  on  one  side,  saw  a  man  whose 
name  was  Talkative,  walking  at  a  distance  beside  them ; 
for  in  this  place  there  was  room  enough  for  them  all  to  walk. 

1  From  Orations  and  Adilresseg.  CopyriK-lit,  1893,  by  Harper  &  Brothers. 
Used  with  the  kind  permission  of  the  publibhers. 


178  ORAL  RE.VDING 

Ho  was  a  tall  man,  and  somethino^  more  comely  at  a  dis- 
tance than  at  hand.  To  this  man  Faithful  addressed  himself 
in  this  manner : 

Faithful.  Friend,  whither  away  ?  Are  you  going  to  the 
heavenly  country? 

Talkative.  I  am  going  to  the  same  place. 

Fait /if III.  That  is  well;  then  I  hope  we  may  have  your 
good  company  ? 

Talkative.  AVith  a  very  good  will  will  I  be  your  com- 
panion. 

Faithful.  Come  on,  then,  let  us  go  together,  and  let  us 
spend  our  time  in  discoursing  of  things  that  are  profitable. 

Talkative.  To  talk  of  things  that  are  good,  to  me  is  very 
acceptable,  with  you  or  with  any  other ;  and  I  am  glad  that 
I  have  met  with  those  that  incline  to  so  good  a  work  ;  for,  to 
speak  the  truth,  there  are  but  few  that  care  tlius  to  spend 
their  time  as  they  are  in  their  travels,  but  choose  much 
rather  to  be  speaking  of  things  to  no  profit ;  and  this  hath 
been  a  trouble  to  me.  .  .  . 

Faithful.  Well,  then,  what  is  that  one  thing  that  we  shall 
at  this  time  found  our  discourse  ujjon? 

Talkative.  "What  you  will.  I  will  talk  of  things  heavenly, 
or  things  earthly  ;  things  moral,  or  things  evangelical ;  things 
sacred,  or  things  profane  ;  things  past,  or  things  to  come  ; 
things  foreign,  or  things  at  home ;  things  more  essential,  or 
things  circumstantial;  provided  that  all  be  done  to  our  profit. 

Now  did  Faithful  begin  to  wonder  ;  and  stepping  to  Chris- 
tian (for  he  walked  all  this  while  by  himself),  he  said  to 
him,  but  softly.  What  a  brave  companion  have  we  got ! 
Surely  this  man  will  make  a  very  excellent  pilgrim. 

At  this  Christian  modestly  smiled,  and  said.  This  man 
with  whom  you  are  so  taken,  will  beguile  with  this  tongue  of 
his,  twenty  of  them  that  know  him  not. 

Faithful.  Do  you  know  him,  then  ? 

Christian.  Know  him !  Yes,  better  than  he  knows  himself. 

Faithful.  Pray,  what  is  he  ? 

Christian.  His  name  is  Talkative :  he  dwelleth  in  our 
town.  I  wonder  that  you  should  be  a  stranger  to  him,  only 
I  consider  that  our  town  is  large. 


RHYTHM  179 

Faithful.  Whose  son  is  he?  And  whereabout  doth  he 
dwell  ? 

Christian.  He  is  the  son  of  one  Saywell.  He  dwelt  in 
Prating  Row ;  and  he  is  known  of  all  that  are  acquainted 
with  him  by  the  name  of  Talkative  of  Prating  Row  ;  and 
notwithstanding  his  fine  tongue,  he  is  but  a  sorry  fellow. 

Faithful.  Well,  he  seems  to  be  a  very  pretty  man. 

Christian.  That  is,  to  them  that  have  not  a  thorough  ac- 
quaintance with  him,  for  he  is  best  abroad ;  near  home  he  is 
Ugly  enough.  ...  I  wiU  give  you  a  further  discovery  of  him. 
This  man  is  for  any  company,  and  for  any  talk  ;  as  he 
talketh  now  with  you,  so  will  he  talk  when  he  is  on  the  ale- 
bench  ;  and  the  more  drink  he  hath  in  his  crown,  the  more 
of  these  things  he  hath  in  his  mouth.  Religion  hath  no 
place  in  his  heart,  or  house,  or  conversation  ;  all  he  hath  lieth 
in  his  tongue,  and  his  religion  is  to  make  a  noise  therewith. 

Faithful.  Say  you  so !  Then  am  I  in  this  man  greatly 
deceived. 

Christian.  Deceived !  You  may  be  sure  of  it.  Remem- 
ber the  proverb,  "  They  say,  and  do  not ;  "  but  "  the  king- 
dom of  God  is  not  in  word,  but  in  power." 

Bunyan  :  Pilgrim's  Progress  (Fifth  Stage). 

/  2.  Normal,  regular  verse 

*  6.  In  men  whom  men  denounce  as  ill 

I  find  so  much  of  goodness  stiU, 

In  men  whom  men  pronounce  divine 

I  find  so  much  of  sin  and  blot ; 

I  hesitate  to  draw  a  line 

Between  the  two,  where  God  has  not. 

Joaquin  Miller :  Mankind, 

^6.  Thou,  too,  sail  on,  O  Ship  of  State ! 

Sail  on,  O  Union,  strong  and  great ! 
Humanity  with  all  its  fears, 
With  all  its  hopes  of  future  years. 
Is  hanging  breathless  on  thy  fate  ! 
We  know  what  Master  laid  thy  keel, 
What  Workmen  wrought  thy  ribs  of  steel, 


180  ORAL  READING 

Who  made  each  mast,  ami  sail,  and  rope, 

"\Vliat  anvils  rang,  wliat  hammers  beat, 

In  what  a  torge  and  what  a  heat 

AVere  shaped  the  ancliors  of  tliy  hope ! 

Fear  not  eacli  sudden  sound  and  shock, 

'T  is  of  the  wave  and  not  the  rock ; 

'T  is  but  the  flapping  of  the  sail, 

And  not  a  rent  made  by  the  gale ! 

In  spite  of  rock  and  tempest's  roar. 

In  spite  of  false  lights  on  the  shore, 

Sail  on,  nor  fear  to  breast  the  sea  ! 

Our  hearts,  our  hopes,  are  all  with  thee, 

Our  hearts,  our  hopes,  our  prayers,  our  tears. 

Our  faith  triumphant  o'er  our  fears, 

Are  all  witli  thee,  —  are  all  with  thee ! 

Longfellow :  The  Building  of  the  Ship- 

7.  Some  hae  meat  and  canna  eat, 

And  some  wad  eat  that  want  it ; 
But  we  hae  meat  and  we  can  eat, 
Sae  let  the  Lord  be  thankit. 

Burns  :  The  Selkirk  Grace. 

8.  Grow  old  along  with  me ! 
The  best  is  yet  to  be. 

The  last  of  life,  for  which  the  first  was  made : 

Our  times  are  in  His  hand 

Who  saith,  "  A  whole  I  i)lanned, 
Youth  shows  but  lialf  ;  trust  God  :  see  all.  nor  be  afraid ! 
Browning:  Rabbi  Ben  Ezra,  Stanza  1. 

9.  First  of  November,  —  the  Earthquake  day.  — 
There  are  traces  of  age  in  the  one-hoss  shay, 
A  general  flavor  of  mild  decay, 

But  nothing  local,  as  one  may  say. 
There  could  n't  be,  —  for  the  Deacon's  art 
Had  made  it  so  like  in  every  part 
That  there  was  n't  a  chance  for  one  to  start. 


RHYTHM  181 

For  the  wheels  were  just  as  strong  as  the  thills, 
And  the  floor  was  just  as  strong  as  the  sills, 
And  the  panels  just  as  strong  as  the  floor, 
And  the  whipple-tree  neither  less  nor  more, 
And  the  back  crossbar  as  strong  as  the  fore, 
And  spring  and  axle  and  hub  encore. 
And  yet,  as  a  whole,  it  is  past  a  doubt 
In  another  hour  it  wiU  be  worn  out ! 

First  of  November,  'Fifty-five ! 

This  morning  the  parson  takes  a  drive. 

Now,  small  boys,  get  out  of  the  way ! 

Here  comes  the  wonderful  one-hoss  shay, 

Drawn  by  a  rat-tailed,  ewe-necked  bay. 

"  Huddup  !  "  said  the  parson.  —  Off  went  they. 

The  parson  was  working  his  Sunday's  text,  — - 
Had  got  to  fifthly,  and  stopped  perplexed 
At  what  the  —  Moses  —  was  coming  next. 
All  at  once  the  horse  stood  still. 
Close  by  the  meet'n'-house  on  the  hill. 

—  First  a  shiver,  and  then  a  thrill, 
Then  something  decidedly  like  a  spill,  — 
And  the  parson  was  sitting  upon  a  rock. 

At  half-past  nine  by  the  meet'n'-house  clock,  — 
Just  the  hour  of  the  Earthquake  shock  I 

—  What  do  you  think  the  parson  found. 
When  he  got  up  and  stared  around  ? 
The  poor  old  chaise  in  a  heap  or  mound. 
As  if  it  had  been  to  the  mill  and  ground ! 
You  see,  of  course,  if  you  're  not  a  dunce, 
How  it  went  to  pieces  all  at  once,  — 

All  at  once,  and  nothing  first,  — 
Just  as  bubbles  do  when  they  burst. 

End  of  the  wonderful  one-hoss  shay. 
Logic  is  logic-  That 's  all  I  say. 

Holmes  :   The  One-Hosa  Shay. 


182  ORAL  READING 

3.  Irregular  verse 

10.  Tlioro  is  a  tide  in  the  ailairs  of  men, 
Wliicli,  taken  at  the  flood,  leads  on  to  fortune ; 
Omitted,  all  the  voyage  of  their  life 

Is  hound  in  shallows  and  in  miseries. 

And  we  must  take  the  current  when  it  serves, 

Or  lose  our  ventures. 

Shakespeare :  Julius  Ccesar,  iv,  iii. 

11.  Roaming  in  thought  over  the  Universe,  I  saw  the  little 

that  is  Good  steadily  hastening  towards  immortality, 
And   the  vast  all  that  is  call'd  Evil  I  saw  hastening  to 
merge  itself  and  become  lost  and  dead. 


Whitman. 


12.      Flower  in  the  crannied  wall, 

I  pluck  you  out  of  the  crannies, 
I  hold  you  here,  root  and  all,  in  my  hand, 
Little  flower  —  but  if  I  could  understand 
What  you  are,  root  and  all,  and  all  in  all, 
I  should  know  what  God  and  man  is. 


Tennyson. 


13.      Breathes  there  the  man,  with  soul  so  dead, 
Who  never  to  himself  hath  said, 

This  is  my  own,  my  native  land  ? 
Whose  heart  hath  ne'er  within  him  burned, 
As  home  his  footsteps  he  hath  turned 

From  wandering  on  a  foreign  strand  ? 
If  such  there  breathe,  go,  mark  him  well ; 
For  him  no  minstrel  raptures  swell ; 
High  though  his  titles,  proud  his  name. 
Boundless  his  wealth  as  wish  can  claim ; 
Despite  those  titles,  power,  and  pelf, 
The  wretch,  concentred  all  in  self, 
Living,  shall  forfeit  fair  renown. 
And,  doubly  dying,  shall  go  down 
To  the  vile  dust  from  whence  he  sprung. 
Unwept,  unhonor'd  and  unsung. 

Scott :  The  Lay  of  the  Last  Minstrel,  vi,  i. 


RHYTHM  183 

14.      I  met  a  traveller  frona  an  antique  land 

Who  said :  '  Two  vast  and  trunkless  legs  of  stone 
Stand  in  the  desert.  Near  them,  on  the  sand, 
Half  sunk,  a  shattered  visage  lies,  whose  frown, 
And  wrinkled  lip,  and  sneer  of  cold  command, 
Tell  that  its  sculptor  well  those  passions  read 
Which  yet  survive,  stamped  on  these  lifeless  things, 
The  hand  that  mocked  them  and  the  heart  that  fed. 
And  on  the  pedestal  these  words  appear  — 
"  My  name  is  Ozymandias,  King  of  Kings  : 
Look  on  my  works,  ye  Mighty,  and  despair !  " 
Nothing  beside  remains.  Round  the  decay 
Of  that  colossal  wreck,  boundless  and  bare 
The  lone  and  level  sands  stretch  far  away.' 

Shelley:  Ozymandias. 


4.  RuTh-on  lines 

15.  My  heart  leaps  up  when  I  behold 

A  rainbow  in  the  sky  : 
So  was  it  when  my  life  began ; 
So  is  it  now  I  am  a  man  ; 
So  be  it  when  I  shall  grow  old, 

Or  let  me  die  ! 
The  Child  is  father  to  the  Man ; 
And  I  could  wish  my  days  to  be 
Bound  each  to  each  by  natural  piety. 

Wordsworth :   The  Rainbow. 


16.  They  are  slaves  who  fear  to  speak 

For  the  fallen  and  the  weak ; 
They  are  slaves  who  will  not  choose 
Hatred,  scoffing  and  abuse, 
Rather  than  in  silence  shrink 
From  the  truth  they  needs  must  think ; 
They  are  slaves  who  dare  not  be 
In  the  right  with  two  or  three. 

Lowell :  Stanzas  on  Freedom,. 


184  ORAL  READING 

17.  Heed  how  thou  livest.  Do  no  act  by  day 

Which  from  the  night  shall  drive  thy  peace  away. 
In  months  of  sun  so  live  that  months  of  rain 
8Iki11  still  be  happy.  Evermore  restrain 
Evil  and  cherish  good,  so  shall  there  be 
Another  and  a  happier  life  for  thee. 

Whittier:  Conduct. 

18.  I  made  them  lay  their  hands  in  mine  and  swear 
To  reverence  the  King,  as  if  he  were 

Their  conscience,  and  their  conscience  as  their  King, 

To  break  the  heathen  and  uphold  the  Christ, 

To  ride  abroad  redressing  human  wrongs. 

To  speak  no  slander,  no,  nor  listen  to  it, 

To  honor  his  own  word  as  if  his  God's, 

To  lead  sweet  lives  in  purest  chastity. 

Tennyson :  Guinevere. 

19.  But  who  can  paint 
Like  Nature  ?  Can  imagination  boast, 
Amid  its  gay  creation,  hues  like  hers  ? 

Or  can  it  mix  them  with  that  matcliless  skill, 
And  lose  them  in  each  other,  as  appears 
In  every  bud  that  blows  ?  If  fancy  then. 
Unequal,  fails  beneath  the  pleasing  task, 
Ah,  what  shall  language  do  ? 

Thomson :  The  Seasons. 

20.  I  stood  within  the  Coliseum's  walls, 
'Midst  the  chief  relics  of  almighty  Rome ; 
The  trees  which  grew  along  the  broken  arches 
Waved  darkly  in  the  blue  midnight,  and  the  stars 
Slione  through  the  rents  of  ruin  ;  from  afar 

The  watch-dog  bay'd  beyond  the  Tiber  ;  and 
More  near  from  out  the  Caesars'  palace  came 
The  owl's  long  cry,  and,  interruptedly, 
Of  distant  sentinels  the  fitful  song 
Begun  and  died  upon  the  gentle  wind. 
Some  cypresses  beyond  the  time-worn  breach 


RHYTHM  185 

Appear'd  to  skirt  the  horizon,  yet  they  stood 

Within  a  bowsliot.  Where  the  Caesars  dwelt, 

And  dwell  the  tuneless  birds  of  night,  amidst 

A  grove  which  springs  through  levell'd  battlements, 

And  twines  its  roots  with  the  imperial  hearths, 

Ivy  usurps  the  laurel's  place  of  growth ; 

But  the  gladiators'  bloody  Circus  stands, 

A  noble  wreck  in  ruinous  perfection  ! 

While  Caesar's  chambers,  and  the  Augustan  halls, 

Grovel  on  earth  in  indistinct  decay. 

And  thou  didst  shine,  thou  rolling  moon,  upon 

All  this,  and  cast  a  wide  and  tender  light, 

Which  soften'd  down  the  hoar  austerity 

Of  rugged  desolation,  and  fill'd  up. 

As  't  were  anew,  the  gaps  of  centuries ; 

Leaving  that  beautiful  which  still  was  so, 

And  making  that  which  was  not,  tiU  the  place 

Became  religion,  and  the  heart  ran  o'er 

With  silent  worsliip  of  the  great  of  old,  — 

The  dead,  but  sceptred  sovereigns,  who  stiU  rule 

Our  spirits  from  their  urns. 

Byron  :  Manfred,  ill,  iv. 

21.        {A  Song,  the  whilst  Bassanio  comments  on  the  caskets 
to  himself) 
Tell  me  where  is  fancy  bred, 
Or  in  the  heart  or  in  the  head  ? 
How  begot,  how  nourished  ? 

Reply,  reply. 
It  is  engender'd  in  the  eyes. 
With  gazing  fed  ;  and  fancy  dies 
In  the  cradle  where  it  lies. 

Let  us  all  ring  fancy's  knell : 
I  '11  begin  it,  —  Ding,  dong,  bell. 
All.  Ding,  dong,  bell. 

Bassanio.      So  may  the  outward  shows  be  least  them- 
selves : 
The  world  is  still  deceiv'd  with  ornament. 
In  law,  what  plea  so  tainted  and  corrupt. 


186  ORAL  RE.\DING 

But,  being  season'd  with  a  gracious  voice, 

C)l)scui'es  the  show  of  evil  ?  In  religion, 

AVhat  daumdil  error  but  some  sober  brow 

AVill  bless  it  and  approve  it  with  a  text, 

Hiding  the  grossness  with  fair  ornament  ? 

There  is  no  vice  so  simple  but  assumes 

Some  mark  of  virtue  on  liis  outward  parts. 

How  many  cowards,  whose  hearts  are  all  as  false 

As  stairs  of  sand,  wear  yet  upon  their  chins 

The  beards  of  Hercules  and  frowning  Mars, 

Who,  inward  search'd,  have  livers  white  as  milk ; 

And  these  assume  but  valour's  excrement 

To  render  them  redoubted !  Look  on  beauty, 

And  you  shall  see  't  is  purchas'd  by  the  weight ; 

Which  therein  works  a  miracle  in  nature. 

Making  them  lightest  that  wear  most  of  it : 

So  ai'e  tbose  crisped  snaky  golden  locks. 

Which  make  such  wanton  gambols  with  the  wind, 

Upon  supposed  fairness,  often  known 

To  be  the  dowry  of  a  second  head. 

The  skull  that  bred  them  in  the  sepulchre. 

Thus  ornament  is  but  the  guil^d  shore 

To  a  most  dangerous  sea ;  the  beauteous  scarf 

Veiling  an  Indian  beauty  ;  in  a  word, 

The  seeming  truth  which  cunning  times  put  on 

To  entrap  the  wisest.  Therefore,  thou  gaudy  gold, 

Hard  food  for  Midas,  I  will  none  of  thee ; 

Nor  none  of  thee,  thou  pale  and  common  drudge 

'Tween  man  and  man :  but  thou,  thou  meagre  lead. 

Which  rather  threat'nest  than  dost  promise  aught, 

Thy  plainness  moves  me  more  than  eloquence ; 

And  here  choose  I :  joy  be  the  consequence ! 

Shakespeare  :  Merchant  of  Venice,  ni,  ii. 

5.  Slow  time 
22.  Not  a  drum  was  heard,  not  a  funeral  note. 

As  his  corse  to  the  rampart  we  hurried ; 
Not  a  soldier  discharged  his  farewell  shot 
O'er  the  grave  where  our  hero  we  buried. 


RHYTHM  1S7 

We  buried  him  darkly  at  dead  of  night, 

The  sods  with  our  bayonets  turning, 
By  the  struggling  moonbeam's  misty  light 

And  the  lantern  dimly  burning. 

Slowly  and  sadly  we  laid  him  down, 

From  the  field  of  his  fame  fresh  and  gory ; 

We  carved  not  a  line,  and  we  raised  not  a  atone, 
But  we  left  him  alone  with  liis  glory. 

Wolfe :  The  Burial  of  Sir  John  Moore. 

23.  The  boast  of  heraldry,  the  pomp  of  power, 

And  all  that  beauty,  all  that  wealth  e'er  gave. 
Await  alike  the  inevitable  hour  : 

The  paths  of  glory  lead  but  to  the  grave. 

Gray :  Elegy  in  a  Country  Churchyard, 

24.  What  next  befell  me  then  and  there 

I  know  not  well  —  I  never  knew ; 
First  came  the  loss  of  light,  and  air, 

And  then  of  darkness  too  : 
I  had  no  thought,  no  feeling  —  none  — 
Among  the  stones  I  stood  a  stone, 
And  was,  scarce  conscious  what  I  wist, 
As  shrubless  crags  within  the  mist ; 
For  all  was  blank,  and  bleak,  and  grey ; 
It  was  not  night,"  it  was  not  day ; 
It  was  not  even  the  dungeon-light. 
So  hateful  to  my  heavy  sight, 
But  vacancy  absorbing  space, 
And  fixedness  without  a  place; 
There  were  no  stars,  no  earth,  no  time, 
No  check,  no  change,  no  good,  no  crime. 
But  silence,  and  a  stirless  breath 
Which  neither  was  of  life  nor  death ; 
A  sea  of  stagnant  idleness, 
Blind,  boundless,  mute,  and  motionless. 

Byron :  The  Prisoner  of  Chillon. 


188  ORAL  READING 

25.  Yet,  after  all,  it  may  be  beat,  just  in  tlie  happiest,  sunni> 
est  hour  of  all  the  voyage,  wliile  eager  winds  are  kissing 
every  sail,  to  clash  against  the  unseen  rock,  and  in  an  in- 
stant hear  the  billows  roar  above  a  sunken  ship.  For 
•whether  in  luid-sea  or  'mong  the  breakers  of  the  farther 
shore,  a  wreck  at  last  must  mark  the  end  of  each  and  all. 
And  every  life,  no  nuitter  if  its  every  hour  is  rich  with  love 
and  every  moment  jeweled  with  a  joy,  will,  at  its  close, 
become  a  tragedy  as  sad  and  deep  and  dark  as  can  be  woven 
of  the  warp  and  woof  of  mystery  and  death.  .  .  . 

Life  is  a  narrow  vale  between  the  cold  and  barren  peaks 
of  two  eternities.  We  strive  in  vain  to  look  beyond  tlie 
heights.  We  cry  aloud,  and  the  only  answer  is  tlie  echo  of 
our  wailing  cry.  From  the  voiceless  lips  of  the  unreplying 
dead  there  comes  no  word ;  but  in  the  night  of  death  hope 
sees  a  star,  and  listening  love  can  hear  the  rustle  of  the  wing. 
Ingersoll:  Address  at  his  Brother's  FuneraL^ 

26.  God  of  our  fathers,  known  of  old, 

Lord  of  our  far-flung  battle-line, 
Beneath  whose  awful  hand  we  hold 

Dominion  over  palm  and  pine  — 
Lord  God  of  Hosts,  be  with  us  yet. 
Lest  we  forget  —  lest  we  forget ! 

The  tumult  and  the  shouting  dies ; 

The  captains  and  the  kings  depart: 
Still  stands  Thine  ancient  sacrifice, 

An  humble  and  a  contrite  heart. 
Lord  God  of  Hosts,  be  with  us  yet, 
Lest  we  forget  —  lest  we  forget ! 

Far-called,  our  navies  melt  away ; 

On  dune  and  headland  sinks  the  fire : 
Lo,  all  our  pomp  of  yesterday 

Is  one  with  Nineveh  and  Tyre! 
Judge  of  the  Nations,  spare  us  yet, 
Lest  we  forget  —  lest  we  forget ! 

■^  From  vol.  Xti  of  the  Collected  Works  of  Robert  G.  Ingersoll.   Used  with 
the  kind  permissiou  of  the  publisher,  C.  P.  Farrell. 


RHYTHM  189 

If,  drunk  with  sight  o£  power,  we  loose 
Wild  tongues  that  have  not  Thee  in  awe, 

Such  boastings  as  the  Gentiles  use, 
Or  lesser  breeds  without  the  Law  — 

Lord  God  of  Hosts,  be  with  us  yet, 

Lest  we  forget  —  lest  we  forget ! 

For  heathen  heart  that  puts  her  trust 

In  reeking  tube  and  iron  shard. 
All  valiant  dust  that  builds  on  dust. 

And  guarding,  calls  not  Thee  to  guard, 
For  frantic  boast  and  foolish  word  — 
Thy  Mercy  on  Thy  People,  Lord  ! 

Amen. 
Kipling:  Recessional. 

6.  Average  time 

27.  Every  one  must  have  observed  the  strange  language  cur- 
rent during  the  late  discussions  as  to  the  possible  failure  of 
our  supjilies  of  coal.  Our  coal,  thousands  of  people  were 
saying,  is  the  real  basis  of  our  national  greatness ;  if  our 
coal  runs  short,  there  is  the  end  of  tlie  greatness  of  England. 
But  what  is  greatness?  —  cultui'e  makes  us  ask.  Greatness 
is  a  spiritual  condition  worthy  to  excite  love,  interest,  and 
admiration.  If  England  were  swallowed  up  by  the  sea  to- 
morrow, which  of  the  two,  a  hundred  years  hence,  would 
most  excite  the  love,  interest,  and  admiration  of  mankind,  — 
would  most,  therefore,  show  the  evidences  of  having  possessed 
greatness,  —  the  England  of  the  last  twenty  years,  or  tlif 
England  of  Elizabeth,  of  a  time  of  splendid  spiritual  offorti 
but  when  our  coal,  and  our  industrial  operations  depending 
on  coal,  were  veiy  little  developed  ? 

Matthew  Arnold  :  Sweetness  and  Light. 

28.  'T  was  June  on  the  face  of  the  earth,  June  with  the  rose's 

bieath, 
"When  life  is  a  gladsome  thing,  and  a  distant  dream  is  death  ; 


190  ORAL  READING 

There  was  gossip  of  birds  in  the  air,  and  the  lowing  of  herds 

by  the  wood, 
And  a  sunset  gleam  in  the  sky  that  the  heart  of  a  man  holds 

good ; 
Then  the  nun-like  Twilight  came,  violet-vestured  and  still, 
And  the   night's  first  star  outshone  afar  on  the  eve  of 

Bunker  Hill. 
Clinton  Scollard:   On  the  Eve  of  Bunker  Hill.^ 

29.  General  Lee  was  never  known  to  betray  on  any  battlefield 
a  sign,  either  of  exultation  or  disappointment.  As  he  wit- 
nessed the  last  grand  effort  of  his  men,  and  saw  it  fail,  he  was 
seen  for  a  moment  to  place  his  finger  thoughtfully  between 
his  lips.  Presently  he  rode  quietly  in  front  of  the  woods, 
rallying  and  encouraging  the  broken  troops,  uttering  words 
of  cheer  and  encouragment.  To  a  foreign  military  officer 
of  rank,  who  had  come  to  witness  the  battle,  he  said  very 
simply  :  "  This  has  been  a  sad  day  for  us,  Colonel,  —  a  sad 
day ;  but  we  can't  expect  always  to  gain  victories." 

PoUard  :  The  Lost  Cause  (The  Battle  of  Gettysburg).* 

30.  Talking  of  locks  reminds  me  of  an  accident  George  and  I 
very  nearly  had  one  summer's  morning  at  Hampton  Court. 

It  was  a  glorious  day,  and  the  lock  was  crowded ;  and, 
as  is  a  common  practice  up  the  river,  a  speculative  photog- 
rapher was  taking  a  picture  of  us  all  as  we  lay  ujion  the 
rising  waters. 

I  did  not  catch  what  was  going  on  at  first,  and  was,  there- 
fore, extremely  surprised  at  noticing  George  hurriedly 
smooth  out  his  trousers,  ruffle  up  his  hair,  and  stick  his  cap 
on  in  a  rakish  manner  at  the  back  of  his  head,  and  then, 
assuming  an  expression  of  mingled  affability  and  sadness, 
sit  down  in  a  graceful  attitude,  and  try  to  hide  his  feet. 

My  first  idea  was  that  he  had  suddenly  caught  sight  of 
some  girl  he  knew,  and  I  looked  about  to  see  who  it  was. 

1  From  Ballads  of  Valor  and  Victory,  Fleming  H.  Revell  and  Company. 
Used  with  the  kind  permLssion  of  the  author. 

^  Used  with  the  kind  permission  of  the  publishers,  E.  B.  Treat  and  Com- 
pany. 


RHYTHM  191 

Everybody  in  the  lock  seemed  to  have  been  suddenly  struck 
wooden.  They  were  all  standing  or  sitting  about  in  the  most 
quaint  and  curious  attitudes  I  have  ever  seen  off  a  Japanese 
fan.  All  the  girls  were  smiling.  Oh,  they  did  look  so  sweet ! 
And  all  the  fellows  were  frowning,  and  looking  stern  and 
noble. 

And  then,  at  last,  the  truth  flashed  across  me,  and  I  won- 
dered if  I  should  be  in  time.  Ours  was  the  first  boat,  and 
it  would  be  unkind  of  me  to  spoil  the  man's  picture,  I 
thought. 

So  I  faced  round  quickly,  and  took  up  a  position  in  the 
prow,  where  I  leant  with  careless  grace  upon  the  hitcher,  in 
an  attitude  suggestive  of  agility  and  strength.  I  arranged 
my  hair  with  a  curl  over  the  forehead,  and  threw  an  air  of 
tender  wistfulness  into  my  expression,  mingled  with  a  touch 
of  cynicism,  which  I  am  told  suits  me. 

As  we  stood  waiting  for  the  eventful  moment,  I  heard 
some  one  behind  call  out : 

"  Hi !  look  at  your  nose." 

I  could  not  turn  round  to  see  what  was  the  matter,  and 
whose  nose  it  was  that  was  to  be  looked  at.  I  stole  a  side 
glance  at  George's  nose !  It  was  all  right  —  at  all  events, 
there  was  nothing  wrong  with  it  that  could  be  altered.  I 
squinted  down  at  my  own,  and  that  seemed  all  that  could 
be  expected  also. 

"  Look  at  your  nose,  you  stupid  ass !  "  came  the  same 
voice  again,  louder. 

And  then  another  voice  cried  : 

"Push  your  nose  out,  can't  you  —  you  two  with  the 
dog!" 

Neither  George  nor  I  dared  to  turn  round.  The  man's 
hand  was  on  the  cap,  and  the  picture  might  be  taken  any 
moment.  Was  it  us  they  were  calling  to?  What  was  the 
matter  with  our  noses?  Why  were  they  to  be  pushed  out ! 

But  now  the  whole  lock  started  yelling,  and  a  stentorian 
voice  from  the  back  shouted : 

"  Look  at  your  boat,  sir  ;  you  in  the  red  and  black  caps. 
It 's  your  two  corpses  that  will  get  taken  in  that  photo,  if 
you  ain't  quick." 


lOi  OTIAL  READING 

We  looked  then,  and  saw  that  the  nose  of  our  boat  ha^ 
got  tixed  under  the  woodwork  «>f  the  lock,  while  the  incom- 
ing water  was  rising  all  round  it,  and  tilting  it  up.  In 
another  moment  we  should  be  over.  Quick  as  thought,  we 
each  seized  Kn  oar,  and  a  vigorous  blow  against  the  side  of 
the  lock  with  the  butt-ends  released  the  boat,  and  sent  uf 
sprawling  on  our  backs. 

AVe  did  not  come  out  well  in  that  photograph,  George  and 
I.  Of  course,  as  was  to  be  expected,  our  luck  ordained  it 
that  the  man  should  set  his  wretched  machine  in  motion  at 
the  precise  moment  that  we  were  both  lying  on  our  backs 
vrith  a  wild  expression  of  "  Where  am  I  ?  and  what  is  it  ?  " 
on  our  faces,  and  our  four  feet  waving  madly  in  the  air. 

Our  feet  were  undoubtedly  the  leading  article  in  that 
photograph.  Indeed,  very  little  else  was  to  be  seen.  They 
filled  up  the  foreground  entirely.  Behind  them,  you  caught 
glimpses  of  the  other  boats,  and  bits  of  the  surrounding  scen- 
ery ;  but  everything  and  everybody  else  in  tlie  lock  looked  so 
utterly  insignificant  and  paltry  compared  with  our  feet,  that 
all  the  other  people  felt  quite  ashamed  of  themselves,  and 
refused  to  subscribe  to  the  picture. 

The  owner  of  one  steam  launch,  who  had  bespoke  six 
copies,  rescinded  the  order  on  seeing  the  negative.  He  said 
he  would  take  them  if  anybody  could  show  him  his  launch,  but 
nobody  could.  It  was  somewhere  behind  George's  right  foot. 

There  was  a  good  deal  of  unpleasantness  over  the  busi- 
ness. The  photograj)her  thought  we  ought  to  take  a  dozen 
copies  each,  seeing  that  the  photo  was  about  nine-tenths  us, 
but  we  declined.  We  said  we  had  no  objection  to  being 
photo'd  full-length,  but  we  preferred  being  taken  the  righf 
way  up. 

Jerome :  Three  Men  in  a  Boat?- 

Zh.  A  fire-mist  and  a  planet,  — 

A  crystal  and  a  cell,  — 
A  jelly-fish  and  a  saurian, 

And  caves  where  the  cave-men  dwell ; 

^  Used  with  the  kind  permission  of  the  publishers,  Henry  Holt   and 
Company. 


RHYTHM  19S 

Then  a  sense  of  law  and  beauty 
And  a  face  turned  from  the  clod, 

Some  call  it  Evolution, 
And  others  call  it  God. 

A  haze  on  the  far  horizon,  — 

The  infinite,  tender  sky,  — 
The  ripe,  rich  tint  of  the  corn-fields, 

And  the  wild  geese  sailing  high,  — 
And  all  over  upland  and  lowland 

The  charm  of  the  golden-rod,  — 
Some  of  us  call  it  Autumn, 

And  others  call  it  God. 

Like  tides  on  a  crescent  sea-beach 

When  the  moon  is  new  and  tliin, 
Into  our  hearts  high  yearnings 

Come  welling  and  surging  in,  — 
Come  from  the  mystic  ocean, 

Whose  rim  no  foot  has  trod,  — • 
Some  of  us  call  it  Longing, 

And  others  call  it  God. 

A  picket  frozen  on  duty,  — 

A  mother  starved  for  her  brood,  — 
Socrates  drinking  the  hemlock. 

And  Jesus  on  the  rood  ; 
And  millions  who,  humble  and  nameless, 

The  straight,  hard  pathway  plod,  — 
Some  call  it  Conseci'ation, 

And  others  call  it  God. 
William  Herbert  Carruth :  Each  in  Hip  Own  Tongue.^ 

7.  Spirited  utterance;  fast  time  ^ 

32.  The  year  's  at  the  spring 

And  day  's  at  the  morn  ; 
Morning  's  at  seven ; 
The  hill-side  's  dew-pearled  ; 

1  From  EacJi  in  His  Own  Tongue  and  Other  Poems,  G.  P.  Putnam's  Sons, 
New  York.  Used  with  tlie  kind  permission  of  fbe  author. 


194  ORAL  READING 

The  lark  's  on  the  wing  ; 

The  snail  's  on  the  thorn  : 

God  's  in  His  heaven  — 

All 's  right  with  the  world  ! 

Browning  :  Pqipa  Passes  (Pippa's  Song). 

33.  Gallant  and  gay  in  their  doublets  gray, 

All  at  a  flash  like  the  darting  of  flame, 
Chattering  Arabic,  African,  Indian  — 

Certain  of  springtime,  the  swallows  came ! 

Doublets  of  gray  silk  and  surcoats  of  purple. 
And  ruffs  of  russet  round  each  little  throat. 

Wearing  such  garb  they  had  crossed  the  waters. 
Mariners  sailing  with  never  a  boat. 

Edwin  Arnold :  The  Swallows. 

34.  How  in  Heaven's  name  did  Columbus  get  over 

Is  a  pure  wonder  to  me,  I  protest ; 
Cabot,  and  Raleigh  too,  that  well-read  rover, 
Frobisher,  Dampier,  Drake,  and  the  rest. 

Bad  enough  all  the  same. 

For  them  that  after  came. 

But,  in  great  Heaven's  name, 

How  he  should  ever  think 

That  on  the  other  brink 
Of  this  wild  waste,  terra  firma  should  be, 
Is  a  pure  wonder,  I  must  say,  to  me. 

What  if  wise  men  had,  as  far  back  as  Ptolemy, 

Judged  that  the  earth  like  an  orange  was  round, 
None  of  them  ever  said,  "  Come  along,  follow  me, 
Sail  to  the  West,  and  the  East  will  be  found." 
Many  a  day  before 
Ever  they  'd  come  ashore. 
Sadder  and  wiser  men, 
They  'd  have  turned  back  again  ; 
And  that  he  did  not,  but  did  cross  the  sea, 
Is  a  pure  wonder,  I  must  say,  to  me. 

Clough :  Columbtis. 


RHYTHM  195 

35.      They  went  to  sea  in  a  sieve,  they  did ; 
In  a  sieve  they  went  to  sea : 
In  spite  of  all  their  friends  could  say, 
On  a  winter's  morn,  on  a  stormy  day, 

In  a  sieve  they  went  to  sea. 
And  when  the  sieve  turned  round  and  round, 
And  every  one  cried,  "  You  '11  all  be  drowned  !  " 
They  called  aloud,  "  Our  sieve  ain't  big ; 
But  we  don't  care  a  button,  we  don't  care  a  fig ; 
In  a  sieve  we  '11  go  to  sea !  " 
Far  and  few,  far  and  few 

Are  the  lands  where  the  Jumblies  live ; 
Their  heads  are  green,  and  their  hands  are  blue. 
And  they  went  to  sea  in  a  sieve. 

The  water  it  soon  came  in,  it  did ; 

The  water  it  soon  came  in ; 
So,  to  keep  them  dry,  they  wrapped  their  feet 
In  a  pinky  paper  all  folded  neat ; 

And  they  fastened  it  down  with  a  pin. 
And  they  passed  the  night  in  a  crockery  jar; 
And  each  of  them  said,  "  How  wise  we  are ! 
Though  the  sky  be  dark,  and  the  voyage  be  long, 
Yet  we  never  can  think  we  were  rash  or  wrong, 
While  round  in  our  sieve  we  spin." 
Far  and  few,  far  and  few 

Are  the  lands  where  the  Jumblies  live ; 
Their  heads  are  green,  and  their  hands  are  blue. 
And  they  went  to  sea  in  a  sieve. 

And  in  twenty  years  they  all  came  back,  — 

In  twenty  years  or  more  ; 
And  every  one  said,  "  How  tall  they  've  grown  ! 
For  they  've  been  to  the  Lakes,  and  the  Torrible  Zone^ 

And  the  hills  of  the  Chankly  Bore." 
And  they  drank  their  health,  and  gave  them  a  feast 
Of  dumplings  made  of  beautiful  yeast ; 
And  every  one  said,  "  If  we  only  live, 
We,  too,  will  go  to  sea  in  a  sieve, 

To  the  hills  of  the  Chankly  Bore." 


19G  ORAL  READING 

Far  and  few,  far  aiul  few 

Are  the  lands  where  the  Juniblies  live ; 

Their  heails  are  green,  and  their  hands  are  blue, 
And  they  went  to  sea  in  a  sieve. 

Edward  Lear :  The  Jumhlies. 

36.  A  wind  came  up  out  of  the  sea, 

And  said,  "  O  mists,  make  room  for  me." 
It  hailed  the  ships,  and  cried,  ''  Sail  on, 
Ye  mariners,  the  night  is  gone." 
And  hurried  landward  far  away, 
Crying,  "  Awake  !  it  is  the  day." 
It  said  unto  the  forest,  "  Shout ! 
Hang  all  your  leafy  banners  out!  " 
It  touched  the  wood-bird's  folded  wing, 
And  said,  "  O  bird,  awake  and  sing." 
And  o'er  the  farms,  "  O  chanticleer, 
Your  clarion  blow ;  the  day  is  near." 
It  whispered  to  the  fields  of  corn, 
"  Bow  down,  and  hail  the  coming  morn." 
It  shouted  tlirough  the  belfry  tower, 
"  Awake,  O  bell !  proclaim  the  hour  !  " 
It  crossed  the  churchyard  with  a  sigh, 
And  said,  "  Not  yet  —  in  quiet  lie." 

Longfellow :  Daybreak. 

8.  For  general  reading 

THE  PIED  PIPER  OF  HAMELINi 
A  child's  story 
Robert  Browning 
I 

37.  Hamelin  Town 's  in  Brunswick, 
By  famous  Hanover  city  ; 

The  river  Weser,  deep  and  wide, 
Washes  its  wall  on  the  southern  side ; 
A  pleasanter  spot  you  never  spied ; 

1  In  abridgin(j  The  Pied  Piper  of  Hamelin  the  author  has  been  helped  by 
the  cutting  of  the  poem  found  in  Charles  Wesley  Emerson's  Evolution  of  Ex- 
pression, volume  i. 


RHYTHM  197 

But  when  begins  my  ditty, 

Almost  five  hundred  years  ago, 

To  see  the  townsfolk  suffei"  so 

From  vermin  was  a  pity. 

n 

Rats! 
They  fought  the  dogs  and  kiUed  the  cats, 

And  bit  the  babies  in  the  cradles, 
And  ate  the  cheeses  out  of  the  vats, 

And  licked  the  soup  from  the  cook's  own  ladles, 
Split  open  the  kegs  of  salted  sprats, 
Made  nests  inside  men's  Sunday  hats, 
And  even  spoiled  the  women's  chats 

By  drowning  their  speaking 

With  shrielving  and  squeaking 
In  fifty  different  sharps  and  flats. 

Ill 
At  last  the  people  in  a  body 

To  the  Town  Hall  came  flocking: 
"  'Tis  clear,"  cried  they,  "  our  Mayor  's  a  noddy  | 

And  as  for  our  Corporation  —  shocking 
To  think  we  buy  gowns  lined  with  ermine 
For  dolts  that  can't  or  won't  determine 
What 's  best  to  rid  us  of  our  vermin ! 
Rouse  up,  sirs  !  Give  your  brains  a  racking 
To  find  the  remedy  we  're  lacking. 
Or,  sure  as  fate,  we  '11  send  you  packing !  " 
At  this  the  Mayor  and  Corporation 
Quaked  with  a  mighty  consternation. 

IV 
An  hour  they  sat  in  council ; 

At  length  the  Mayor  broke  silence : 
"  For  a  guilder  I  'd  iny  ermine  gown  sell, 

I  wish  I  were  a  mile  hence ! 
It 's  easy  to  bid  one  rack  one's  brain  — 
I  'm  sure  my  poor  head  aches  again, 
I  've  scratched  it  so,  and  all  in  vain- 


lOS  ORAL  READING 

Oh  for  a  traj),  a  tra]),  a  trap  !  " 

Just  as  he  said  this,  what  should  hap 

At  the  chamber-door  but  a  gentle  tap  ? 

*' Bless  us,"  cried  the  Mayor,  ''what's  that?" 

*'  Only  a  scra})ing  of  shoes  on  the  mat  ? 

Anything  like  the  sound  of  a  rat 

Makes  my  heart  go  pit-a-pat !  " 

V 
*'  Come  in !  "  the  Mayor  cried,  looking  bigger: 
And  in  did  come  the  strangest  figure ! 
His  queer  long  coat  from  heel  to  head 
Was  half  of  yellow  and  half  of  red, 
And  he  himself  was  tall  and  thin, 
With  sharp  blue  eyes,  each  like  a  pin, 
And  light  loose  hair,  yet  swarthy  skin, 
No  tuft  on  cheek  nor  beard  on  chin, 
But  lips  where  smiles  went  out  and  in ; 
Tliere  was  no  guessing  his  kith  and  kin : 
And  nobody  could  enough  admire 
The  tall  man  and  his  quaint  attire. 
Quoth  one  :  "  It 's  as  my  great-gran dsire, 
Starting  up  at  the  Trump  of  Doom's  tone, 
Had  walked  this  way  from  his  painted  tombstone  S* 

VI 

He  advanced  to  the  council-table : 

And,  "  Please  your  honors,"  said  he,  "  I  'm  ablej 

By  means  of  a  secret  charm,  to  draw 

All  creatures  living  beneath  the  sun. 

That  creep  or  swim  or  fly  or  run, 

After  me  so  as  you  never  saw ! 

And  I  chiefly  use  my  charm 

On  creatures  that  do  people  harm, 

The  mole  and  toad  and  newt  and  viper; 

And  people  call  me  the  Pied  Piper. 

Yet,"  said  he,  "poor  piper  as  I  am, 

In  Tartary  I  freed  tlie  Cham, 

Last  June,  from  his  huge  swarms  of  gnats  ; 


RHYTHM  199 

I  eased  In  Asia  the  Nizam 

Of  a  monstrous  brood  of  vampire-bats: 

And  as  for  what  your  brain  bewilders, 

If  I  can  rid  your  town  of  rats 

Will  you  give  me  a  thousand  guilders  ?  " 

"  One  ?  fifty  thousand !  "  —  was  the  exclamation 

Of  the  astonished  Mayor  and  Corporation. 

VII 

Into  the  street  the  Piper  stept, 

Smiling  first  a  little  smile, 
As  if  he  knew  what  magic  slept 

In  his  quiet  pipe  the  while ; 
Then,  like  a  musical  adept, 
To  blow  the  pipe  his  lips  he  wrinkled, 
And  green  and  blue  his  sharp  eyes  twinkled, 
Like  a  candle-flame  where  salt  is  sprinkled  ; 
And  ere  three  shrill  notes  the  pipe  uttered, 
You  heard  as  if  an  army  muttered; 
And  the  muttering  grew  to  a  gi'umbling ; 
And  the  grumbling  grew  to  a  mighty  rumbling  5 
And  out  of  the  houses  the  rats  came  tumbling. 
Great  rats,  small  rats,  lean  rats,  brawny  rats, 
Brown  rats,  black  rats,  gray  rats,  tawny  rats, 
Grave  old  plodders,  gay  young  friskers, 

Fathers,  mothers,  uncles,  cousins, 
Cocking  tails  and  pricking  whiskers, 

Families  by  ten  and  dozens. 
Brothers,  sisters,  husbands,  wives  — 
Followed  the  Piper  for  their  lives. 
From  street  to  street  he  piped  advancing, 
And  step  for  step  they  followed  dancing, 
Until  they  came  to  the  river  Weser, 
Wherein  all  plunged  and  perished ! 

vin 
You  should  have  heard  the  Hamelin  people 
Ringing  the  bells  till  they  rocked  the  steeple. 

"  Go,"  cried  the  Mayor,  "  and  get  long  poles, 
Poke  out  the  nests  and  block  up  the  holes ! 


2()0  ORAL  READING 

Consult  with  carpenters  and  builders, 

Ai'.d  leave  in  our  town  not  eveu  a  trace 

Of  the  rats  !  " — when  suddenly,  uji  the  face 

Of  the  Piper  perked  in  the  market-place, 

With  a,  "  Fii'st,  if  you  please,  my  thousand  guilders  !  '* 

ES 

A  thousand  guilders  !  The  Mayor  looked  blue ; 

So  did  the  Corporation  too. 

To  pay  this  sum  to  a  wandering  fellow 

With  a  gypsy  coat  of  red  and  yellow ! 

♦'  Beside,"  quoth  the  Mayor,  with  a  knowing  win^, 

"  Our  business  was  done  at  the  river's  brink ; 

W^e  saw  with  our  eyes  the  vermin  sink. 

And  what 's  dead  can't  come  to  life,  I  think. 

So,  friend,  we're  not  tlie  folks  to  shrink 

From  the  duty  of  giving  you  something  for  drink. 

And  a  matter  of  money  to  put  in  your  poke ; 

But  as  for  the  guilders,  what  we  spoke 

Of  them,  as  you  very  well  know,  was  in  joke. 

Beside,  our  losses  have  made  us  thrifty. 

A  thousand  guilders !  Come,  take  fifty  !  " 

X 

The  Piper's  face  fell,  and  he  cried, 
"No  trifling  I  I  can't  wait,  beside! 
And  folks  who  put  me  in  a  passion 
May  find  me  pipe  after  another  fashion.'* 

XII 

Once  more  he  stept  into  the  street, 

And  to  his  lips  again 
Laid  his  long  pipe  of  smooth  straight  cane; 

And  ere  he  blew  three  notes  (such  sweet 
Soft  notes  as  yet  musician's  cunning 

Never  gave  the  enraptured  air) 
There  was  a  rustling  that  seemed  like  a  bustling 
Of  merry  crowds  justling  at  pitching  and  hustling; 
Small  feet  were  pattering,  wooden  shoes  clattering, 


RHYTHM  201 

Little  hands  clapping  and  little  tongues  chattering, 

And,  like  fowls  in  a  farm-yavd  when  barley  is  scattering, 

Out  came  the  children  running. 

All  the  little  boys  and  girls, 

With  rosy  cheeks  and  flaxen  curls, 

And  sparkling  eyes  and  teeth  like  pearls, 

Tripping  and  skijjping,  ran  merrily  after 

The  wonderful  music  with  shouting  and  laughter. 

XIII 

The  Mayor  was  dumb,  and  the  Council  stood 

As  if  they  were  changed  into  blocks  of  wood, 

Unable  to  move  a  step,  or  cry 

To  the  children  merrily  skipping  by, 

—  Could  only  follow  with  the  eye 

That  joyous  crowd  at  the  Piper's  back. 

But  how  the  Mayor  was  on  the  rack, 

And  the  wretched  Council's  bosoms  beat, 

As  the  Piper  tui-ned  from  the  High  Street 

To  where  the  Weser  rolled  its  waters 

Right  in  the  way  of  their  sons  and  daughters! 

However,  he  turned  from  South  to  West, 

And  to  Koppelberg  Hill  his  steps  addressed, 

And  after  him  the  children  pressed ; 

Great  was  the  joy  in  every  breast. 

"  He  never  can  cross  that  mighty  top ! 

He  's  forced  to  let  the  piping  drop, 

And  we  shall  see  our  children  stop !  " 

When,  lo,  as  they  reached  the  mountain-side, 

A  wondrous  portal  opened  wide. 

As  if  a  cavern  was  suddenly  hollowed ; 

And  the  Piper  advanced  and  the  children  followedj 

And  when  all  were  in  to  the  very  last. 

The  door  in  the  mountain-side  shut  fast. 

— ■ XIV 

Alas,  alas  !  for  Hamelin  ! 

There  came  into  many  a  burgher's  pate 
A  text  which  says  that  heaven's  gate 
Opes  to  the  rich  at  as  easy  rate 


oQi  ORAL  READING 

As  the  nci'illo's  eye  takes  a  caiiii'l  in ! 

The  Mayor  sent  East,  West,  Nortli,  and  Souths 

To  offer  the  Piper,  hy  word,  of  mouth, 

Wherever  it  was  men's  lot  to  iind  him, 
Silver  and  gold  to  his  heart's  content, 
If  he  'd  only  return  the  way  he  went, 

And  bring  the  cliildren  behind  him. 
But  when  they  saw  't  was  a  lost  endeavor, 
And  Piper  and  dancers  were  gone  forever, 
They  made  a  decree  that  lawyers  never 

Should  think  their  records  dated  duly 
If,  after  the  day  of  the  month  and  year, 
These  words  did  not  as  well  appear, 
"  And  so  long  after  what  happened  here 

On  the  Twenty-second  of  July, 
Thirteen  hundred  and  seventy-six  :  " 
And  the  better  in  memory  to  fix 
The  place  of  the  children's  last  retreat, 
They  call  it  the  Pied  Piper's  Street  — 
Nor  suffered  they  hostelry  or  tavern 

To  shock  with  mirth  a  street  so  solemn ; 
But  opposite  the  place  of  the  cavern 

They  wrote  the  story  on  a  column, 
And  on  the  great  church-window  painted 
The  same,  to  make  the  world  acquainted 
How  their  children  were  stolen  away. 
And  there  it  stands  to  this  very  day. 
And  I  must  not  omit  to  say 
That  in  Transylvania  there  's  a  tribe 
Of  alien  peo])le  who  ascribe 
The  outlandish  ways  and  dress  • 

On  which  their  neighbors  lay  such  stress, 
To  their  fathers  and  mothers  having  risen 
Out  of  some  subterraneous  prison 
Into  which  they  were  trepanned 
Long  time  ago  in  a  miglity  band 
Out  of  Hamelin  town  in  Brunswick  land. 
But  how  or  why,  they  don't  understand. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

VOCAL    QUALITY 

34.  Definition  of  vocal  quality. 
The  term  vocal  quality  is  applicable  to  two  conditions 
of  voice.  It  denotes  (1)  that  distinctive  and  relatively  per- 
manent character,  or  timbre,  by  which  the  voice  of  one 
person  is  distinguished  from  that  of  another,  and  (2)  the 
modulations  of  tone  of  an  individual  voice  by  which  emo- 
tional states,  such  as  joy,  sorrow,  fear,  doubt,  or  affection, 
are  expressed.^ 

35.  What  determines  vocal  quality 
The  difference  in  the  quality  of  voices  is  due  to  differ- 
ence in  the  form  of  vibrations.  The  tone  produced  by  the 
vibration  of  the  vocal  bands  alone,  if  these  could  be  set  out 
from  the  rest  of  the  vocal  instrument,  would  be  thin  and 
characterless,  but  when  it  is  reinforced  by  the  secondary 
vibrations  of  the  resonant  spaces  of  throat,  nasal  cham- 
bers, and  mouth,  the  tone  assumes  definite  character  and 
quality.  As  the  sound  of  the  flute  differs  from  that  of  the 
violin  because  of  difference  in  the  material,  texture,  shape, 
and  construction  of  the  two  instruments,  so  the  quality  of 
voices  is  determined  by  the  texture  of  the  vocal  bands  and 

^  The  voice  of  every  human  being  has  a  quality  of  tone  peculiar  to  it  and 
different  from  that  of  any  other  voice.  We  recog-nize  our  friends  and  the  in- 
dividual members  of  the  family  by  their  voices,  even  after  lone:  periods 
of  separation  and  though  we  do  not  see  them  when  they  speak.  Yet,  each 
voice,  while  preserving  its  distinctive  character,  is  susceptible  of  marked 
change  of  quality  through  the  influence  of  imagination  and  emotion.  The 
child  knows  by  the  tone  of  the  mother's  voice  whether  she  is  sympathetic  or 
impatient ;  the  voice  of  a  friend  tells  us  whether  he  is  happy,  sad,  calm, 
or  excited. 


i 


9M  ORAL  READING 

all  parts  concerned  in  the  makini^  of  tone,  and  by  the  size, 
shape,  and  condition  of  the  vocal  cavities  of  chest,  throat, 
nose,  and  luotith,  —  wherever,  indeed,  the  tone  vibrates. 

But  while  the  quality  of  a  particular  instrument  is  more 
or  loss  stable,  that  of  the  voice  is  subject  to  notable  modi- 
lication.  A  change  in  the  condition  of  any  part  of  the  vocal 
apparatus  wiU  change  the  quality  of  the  tone.  A  cold  is  at 
once  perceptible  in  the  voice.  Emotions,  affecting  as  they  do 
the  muscular  texture  of  the  entire  body,  exert  a  marked 
influence  over  the  delicate  muscles  controlling  the  voice, 
and  consequently  they  modify  the  tone  according  to  the 
character  and  intensity  of  the  emotion.  Joy  brings  a  sense 
of  firmness  throughout  the  whole  body  —  the  tone  of  joy 
is  clear,  firm,  and  strong.  Grief  relaxes,  —  the  tone  of  grief 
is  dull,  monotonous,  and  sometimes  not  voluntarily  con- 
trollable. Anger  hardens  and  tightens  the  muscles,  —  the 
tone  of  anger  is  high,  strident,  tense.  Affection,  tenderness, 
love,  soften  the  muscular  texture,  —  of  these  the  tone  is 
low,  tender,  soothing. 

36.  Control  of  tone  quality 
It  is  obvious  that  the  quality  of  the  voice  is  partly  within 
the  control  of  the  will,  partly  beyond  it.  In  so  far  as  the  char- 
acter of  the  tone  is  predetermined  by  the  size,  the  shape, 
and  the  texture  of  certain  firm  and  fixed  parts  of  the  vocal 
organs,  such  as  the  roof  of  the  mouth  and  the  nasal  cham- 
bers, it  cannot  be  changed  at  will.  To  these  fixed  parts  of 
the  instrument  the  distinctive,  individual  quality  of  voices 
is  attributable,  while  the  emotional  qualities  are  the  result 
of  adjustments  of  the  flexible  and  adaptable  muscles  and 
tissues  of  throat,  soft  palate,  and  tongue,  these  being  sub- 
ject to  the  influence  of  the  will  and  the  emotions.  It  fol- 
lows that  the  expressive  qualities  of  the  voice  may  be  ex- 
tended, improved,  and  brought  under  control.  This  may  be 


VOCAL  QUALITY  205 

^accomplished  by  technical  vocal  exercises  ^  and  by  bringing 
the  voice  into  intimate  and  responsive  relation  to  mind, 
imagination,  and  feeling  through  the  sympathetic  vocal  ren- 
dering of  all  forms  of  poetry  and  imaginative  literature. 

37.  T1ie  sympathetic  renderinc)  of  literature 
The  most  effective  way  of  improving  the  quality  of  the 
voice  and  of  making  it  obedient  and  responsive  to  the  de- 
mands of  the  mind  and  the  emotions,  is  found  in  the  sym- 
pathetic voicing  of  selections  from  literature  embracing  all 
varieties  and  shades  of  thought  and  feeling.  As  modula- 
tions in  tone  quality  are  the  result  of  the  direct  influence 
of  thought,  imagination,  and  emotion  on  the  voice,  it  fol- 
lows that  the  training  of  the  voice  in  quality  depends  on 
educating  and  strengthening  these  faculties  through  an 
awakened  appreciation  of  various  types  of  literature.  Read 
aloud  the  lines  quoted  below  and  observe  that,  as  the  sjjirit 
of  each  is  understood  and  felt,  the  quality  of  the  voice  un- 
dergoes a  distinct  change  in  passing  from  one  to  the  other, 

Shylock.   Who  is  lie  comes  here  ? 
Enter  Antonio 

Bassanio.  This  is  Signior  Antonio. 

Shylock  (aside) .  How  like  a  fawning  publican  he  looks  ! 
I  hate  him  for  he  is  a  Christian  ; 
But  more,  for  that  in  low  simplicity 
He  lends  out  money  gratis,  and  brings  down 
The  rate  of  usance  here  with  us  in  Venice. 

1  The  discussion  of  the  technique  of  tone  production  does  not  come  within 
the  province  of  this  chapter.  However,  it  should  he  remarked  in  passing'  that 
technical  vocal  exercises,  when  wisely  used,  are  highly  important  and  bene- 
ficial means  of  securing  voluntary  control  of  tone  and  of  overcoming  weak- 
nesses and  faults  in  the  speaking  voice.  Thus,  certain  exercises  may  he 
effectively  used  in  removing  nasality,  huskiness,  thinness  of  tone,  and  the 
like.  But  mechanical  exercises  do  not  suffice  for  the  training  of  the  voije 
in  qualities  of  sympathy  and  in  spontaneous  responsiveness  to  thought  and 
feeling.  These  qualities  cannot  he  secured  hy  meclianical  devices,  and  a  de- 
liberate attemiit  to  simulate  sympathy  of  tone  when  sympathy  is  not  felt 
results  in  obvious  insincerity  and  artificiality. 


206  OR.\L  READING 

If  I  can  catch  him  once  upon  the  hip, 

I  will  feed  fat  the  ancient  grudge  1  hear  him. 

He  hates  our  sacred  nation,  and  he  rails, 

Even  there  where  merchants  most  do  congregate, 

On  nie,  my  bargains,  and  my  well-won  tlirift, 

Which  he  calls  interest.  Cursed  be  my  tribe, 

If  I  forgive  him  ! 

Shakespeare :  Merchant  of  Venice,  I,  iiL 

The  day  is  cold,  and  dark,  and  dreary ; 

It  rains,  and  the  wind  is  never  weary  ; 
The  vine  still  clings  to  the  mouldering  wall, 
But  at  every  gust  the  dead  leaves  fall, 

And  the  day  is  dark  and  dreary. 

My  life  is  cold,  and  dark,  and  dreary ; 

It  rains,  and  the  wind  is  never  weary ; 
My  thoughts  still  cling  to  the  mouldering  Past, 
But  the  hopes  of  youth  fall  thick  in  the  blast, 

And  the  days  are  dark  and  dreary. 

Be  still,  sad  heart !  and  cease  repining ; 

Behind  the  clouds  is  the  sun  still  shining ; 
Thy  fate  is  the  common  fate  of  all, 
Into  each  life  some  rain  must  fall. 

Some  days  must  be  dark  and  dreary. 

Longfellow  :   The  Rainy  Day. 

38.  Kinds  of  vocal  quality 

The  possible  changes  and  shades  of  quality  of  the  culti= 
Tated  and  obedient  voice  are  limited  only  by  the  capacity 
and  range  of  the  imagination  and  the  emotional  nature  of 
the  individual.  According  to  the  character  of  the  impulse 
governing  the  voice,  tone  quality  may  be  considered  as 
(1)  Normal,  or  Pure,  and  (2)  Abnormal,  or  Impure. 

I.  Nomial,  or  pure  tone.  Pure  tone  is  that  clear,  rich, 
resonant  quality  of  voice  resulting  from  the  harmonious 
action  of  all  parts  of  the  vocal  instrument  in  obedience 


VOCAL  QUALITY  207 

to  the  normal,  controlled  action  of  mind,  imagination,  and 
feeling.  Whatever  is  worthy,  noble,  and  beautiful  in 
thought  and  spirit,  whether  related  to  the  common  affairs 
of  every  day  or  to  the  idealistic  conceptions  of  literature, 
finds  expression  in  pure  tone.^  But,  as  there  are  many 
aspects  of  human  experience  and  many  states  of  mind  and 
emotion  which  may  be  considered  normal,  there  are  many 
modulations  of  pure  tone  indicative  of  varying  thoughts 
and  moods  of  the  individual.  A  minute  classification  of 
modulations  of  pure  tone,  even  were  it  possible,  is  not 
necessary  for  the  purposes  of  our  study,  but  for  the  sake 
of  suggestions  for  training  in  vocal  expression  and  of 
affording  criteria  by  which  appreciation  and  emotional 
response  may  be  judged,  certain  typical  conditions  of 
thought  and  feeling  finding  normal  expression  in  tones  of 
pure  quality,  may  be  considered  in  this  connection.  Quali- 
ties of  pure  tone  are  heard  in   (1)  common  conversation, 

(2)  the    expression    of    strong    and    elevated    feelings, 

(3)  somber  and  reflective  moods,  and  (4)  genial,  glad, 
exultant  emotions. 

(1)  Common  conversation.  Under  ordinary  conditions 
of  everyday  conversation  the  mind  is  calm,  and  the  voice, 
if  properly  used,  is  pure  and  pleasing.  This  is  also  true  of 
most  of  the  readins^  aloud  done  in  the  home.  As  the  o:reater 
part  of  our  speech  is  of  this  quieter  sort,  the  cultivation  of 
an  easy,  normal  use  of  the  speaking  voice  is  highly  impor- 
tant. Read  the  following  extract  In  a  simple,  clear,  pure 
tone,  suited  to  the  genial  character  of  the  conversation :  — 

There  are  sweet  voices  among  us,  wu  all  know,  and  voices  not 
musical,  it  may  be,  to  those  who  hear  them  for  the  first  time,  yet 

1  A  voice  misused  cannot  give  consistent  and  adequate  expression  to  gfenial, 
fine  thoughts  and  impulses.  Tenderness  is  not  expressed  in  a  harsh  guttural, 
nor  strong  confidence  and  hope  in  a  high  falsetto,  nor  happiness  in  a  hoai-se 
whisper.  A  clear  voice  of  resonant  and  sympathetic  quality  is  one  of  the  most 
Taluahle  attaiaments  of  the  student  of  vocal  expression. 


808  OR.VL  READING 

sweeter  to  us  than  any  we  sliall  hear  until  we  listen  to  some 
warbling  angel  in  the  overture  to  that  eternity  of  blissful  har- 
monies we  hope  to  enjoy.  .  .  . 

''  I  wish  you  could  hear  my  sister's  voice,"  said  the  school- 
mistress. 

'*  If  it  is  like  yours,  it  must  be  a  pleasant  one,"  said  I. 

"  I  never  tliouglit  mine  was  anything,"  said  the  schoolmistress. 

"  How  should  you  know  ?  "  said  I.  "  People  never  hear  their 
own  voices  any  more  than  they  see  their  own  faces.  There  is  not 
even  a  looking-glass  for  the  voice.  Of  course,  there  is  something 
audible  to  us  when  we  speak,  hut  that  something  is  not  our  own 
voice  as  it  is  known  to  all  our  acquaintances.  I  think,  if  an  image 
spoke  to  us  in  our  own  tones,  we  should  not  know  then)  in  the  least." 
Holmes  :   The  Autocrat  of  the  Breakfast  Table. 

(2)  Strong  and  elevated  feeling.  When  feeling  is  in- 
tense, or  when  the  spirit  is  uplifted  in  contemplation  of 
that  which  is  noble,  sublime,  and  awe-inspiring,  the  tone 
naturally  becomes  strong,  full,  round,  and  open.  This 
tone  of  enlarged  volume  and  resonance,  as  distinguished 
from  the  voice  of  ordinary  speech,  has  been  called  "  oro- 
tund." But  it  differs  from  the  usual  voice  of  conversa- 
tion merely  in  the  strength  and  fullness  of  resonance.  It 
is  the  same  tone,  produced  in  the  same  way,  but  intensified 
and  enlarged  in  response  to  stronger  and  deeper  feeling. 
Under  the  stimulus  of  intense  emotions  and  with  the  in- 
spiration of  exalted  thought,  the  breathing  becomes  more 
energetic,  the  chest  expands,  the  throat  opens,  and  the  full 
resonant  power  of  the  voice  is  heard.  The  public  speaker 
may  begin  his  address  in  a  conversational  tone,  but  as  his 
thought  reaches  higher  levels,  and  as  his  feelings  grow 
more  intense  and  exalted,  his  voice  becomes  full,  strong, 
and  more  resonant,  and  his  style  of  speech  is  elevated  above 
that  of  ordinary,  everyday  talk.  But  his  expression  is  none 
the  lesi.  natural.  Under  such  conditions  the  usual  colloquial 
style  would  be  unnatural.    Adequate  expression  of  the  fol- 


VOCAL  QUALITY  209 

lowing  lines  of  intense  excitement  cannot  be  given  in  a 
conversational  manner. 

"  Who  dares  ?  "  —  this  was  the  patriot's  cry, 
As  striding  from  the  desk  he  came,  — 
''  Come  out  with  me,  in  Freedom's  name, 
For  lier  to  live,  for  her  to  die  ?  " 

Read :  The  Rising. 

The  alert  reader  will  not  speak  these  words  in  a  break- 
fast-table, "  Pass  the  butter,  please,"  manner  of  utterance, 
but  in  the  strong,  firm,  resonant  tone  consistent  with  their 
heroic  spirit. 

Imagine  in  your  mind  the  scene  described  in  the  lines 
taken  from  Coleridge's  Hymn  to  Mont  Blanc,  put  your- 
self in  the  place  of  the  author,  and  holding  the  vision  be- 
fore you,  breathe  deeply,  open  the  throat  and  give  voice  to 
the  feelings  of  admiration,  wonder,  awe,  and  worship  which 
the  scene  awakens  within  you. 

Thou  too,  hoar  Mount!  with  tliy  sky-pointing  peaks, 

Oft  from  whose  feet  the  avalanche,  unheard, 

Shoots  downward,  glittering  through  the  pure  serene, 

Into  the  depth  of  clouds  that  veil  thy  breast  — 

Thou,  too,  again,  stupendous  Mountain  !  thou 

That  as  I  raise  my  head,  awhile  bowed  low 

In  adoration,  upward  from  thy  base 

Slow  traveling  with  dim  eyes  suffused  with  tears, 

Solemnly  seemest,  like  a  vapory  cloud. 

To  rise  before  me  —  Rise,  O  ever  rise  ! 

Rise  like  a  cloud  of  incense,  from  the  earth! 

Thou  kingly  Spirit  throned  among  the  hills. 

Thou  dread  ambassador  from  earth  to  heaven. 

Great  Hierarch !  tell  thou  the  silent  sky, 

And  tell  the  stars,  and  tell  yon  rising  sun. 

Earth,  with  her  thousand  voices,  praises  God. 

(3)    Somber  and  reflective  moods.    When  the  mind  is 
oppressed  with   sorrow  or  gloom,  or  is   "clouded  with  a 


210  ORAL  READING 

doubt,"  the  voice,  while  usually  pui-e,  has  not  the  bright, 
clear,  ringing  tone  of  more  usual  states  of  feeling,  —  of 
cheerfulness,  hope,  or  gayety,  —  but  its  tone  is  dull,  cov- 
ered, somber.  Picture  the  conditions  described  in  the  first 
verses  taken  from  Byron's  poem  Darkness,  and  in  voicing 
the  lines  take  time  to  realize  vividly  the  meaning  of  every 
image. 

I  had  a  dream,  which  was  not  all  a  dream. 

The  bright  sun  was  extinguish'd,  and  the  stars 

Did  wander  darkling  in  the  eternal  space, 

Rayless,  and  patldess,  and  the  icy  earth 

Swung  blind  and  blackening  in  the  moonless  air ; 

Morn  came  and  went  —  and  came,  and  brought  no  day, 

And  men  forgot  their  passions  in  the  dread 

Of  this  their  desolation ;  and  all  hearts 

Were  chill'd  into  a  selfish  prayer  for  light : 

And  they  did  Uve  by  watchfires  — and  the  thrones, 

The  palaces  of  crowned  kings  —  the  huts, 

The  habitations  of  all  things  which  dwell, 

Were  burnt  for  beacons ;  cities  were  consumed, 

And  men  were  gather'd  round  their  blazing  homes 

To  look  once  more  into  each  other's  face. 

A  fearful  hope  was  all  the  world  contain'd. 

(4)  Genial  emotions.  Feelings  of  gladness,  elation,  ex- 
ultation in  healthful  action,  all  genial  and  fanciful  emo- 
tions, find  their  true  expression  in  tones  of  clear,  bright 
quality. 

Oh,  our  manhood's  prime  vigor !  No  spirit  feels  waste. 
Not  a  muscle  is  stopped  in  its  playing  nor  sinew  unbraced. 
Oh,  the  wild  joys  of  living !  the  leaping  from  rock  up  to  rock. 
The  strong  rending  of  boughs  from  the  iir-tree,  the  cool  silver 

shock 
Of  the  plunge  in  a  pool's  living  water,  the  hunt  of  the  bear, 
And  the  sultriness  showing  the  lion  is  couched  in  his  lair. 
And  the  meal,  the  rich  dates  yellowed  over  with  gold  dnst  divine. 
And  the  locust-flesh  steeped  in  the  pitcher,  the  full  draught  of  wine. 


VOCAL  QUALITY  211 

And  the  sleep  in  the  dried  river-channel  where  bulrushes  teU 
That  the  water  was  wont  to  go  warbling  so  softly  and  well. 
How  good  is  man's  life,  the  mere  living !   how  fit  to  employ 
All  the  heart  and  the  soul  and  the  senses  forever  in  joy  ! 

Browning:  Saul. 

(2.  Abnormal,  or  impure  tone.  By  abnormal  or  impure 
)ne  we  mean  those  qualities  of  voice  resulting  from  unu-r 
sual  physical  conditions,  or  from  abnormal,  excited  states 
of  mind  and  emotion.  Thus  weakness,  alarm,  anger,  fear, 
hate,  excessive  joy  or  grief  —  all  feeling,  in  fact,  which 
passes  beyond  the  bound  of  absolute  control  —  disturb  the 
conditions  of  tone-production  and  affect  the  voice  in  strange 
ways.  In  training  the  voice  for  ordinai-y  speech  these  con- 
ditions need  little  emphasis.  Pure,  normal  tone  is  the  es- 
sential thing.  But,  since  in  literature  we  find  recorded  all 
experiences  and  emotions  of  men,  the  ability  to  recognize 
and  adjust  oneself  to  them  and  the  education  of  the  voice 
to  express  all  kinds  and  shades  of  feeling  are  necessary 
for  interpretative  reading.  [The  selfish,  unyielding  charac- 
ter and  sinister  motives  of~Rhylock  cannot  be  suggested 
by  pure  tone.  His  nature  is  harsh  and  his  dark  thoughts 
express  themselves  in  harsh,  guttural  sounds.  Try  reading 
aloud  the  speech  of  Shylock  quoted  below  in  a  clear,  pleas- 
ant, affable  voice.  The  inconsistency  of  thought  and  ex- 
pression will  be  obvious.  Read  the  lines  again,  letting  the 
antagonistic  and  revengeful  spirit  of  the  character  control 
the  tone.  In  the  latter  reading  the  tone  can  hardly  be 
called  pure  in  quality. 

Salarino.  Why,  I  am  sure,  if  he  forfeit,  thou  wilt  not  take  his 
flesh  :  what 's  that  good  for  ? 

Shylock.  To  bait  fish  withal:  if  it  will  feed  nothing  else,  it 
will  feed  my  revenge.  He  hath  disgraced  me,  and  hinder'd  me 
half  a  million  ;  laugh'd  at  my  losses,  mock'd  at  my  gains,  scorned 
my  nation,  thwarted  my  bargains,  cooled  my  friends,  heated  mine 


i\i  ORAL  READING 

enemies;  and  what's  his  reason  ?  I  am  a  Jew.  Hath  not  a  Jew 
eyes?  Iialh  not  a  Jew  hands,  organs,  dimensions,  senses,  affec- 
tions, passions  ?  fed  with  the  same  food,  hurt  with  the  same 
\vea])oiis,  subjert  to  the  same  diseases,  healed  by  the  same  means, 
warmed  and  cooknl  by  tlie  same  winter  and  summer,  as  a  Chris- 
tian \s?  If  you  prick  us,  do  we  not  bleed  ?  if  you  tickle  us,  do  we 
not  laugh  ?  if  you  poison  us,  do  we  not  die?  and  if  you  wrong  us, 
shall  we  not  revenge  ?  if  we  are  like  you  in  the  rest,  we  will  re- 
semble you  in  that.  If  a  Jew  wrong  a  Christian,  what  is  his 
humility  ?  Revenge.  If  a  Christian  wrong  a  Jew,  what  sliould  ids 
sufferance  be  by  Christian  example?  Why,  revenge.  The  villainy 
you  teach  me,  I  will  execute,  and  it  shall  go  hard  but  I  will 
better  the  instruction. 

Shakespeare :  Merchant  of  Venice,  iii,  i. 

Moreover,  alarm,  fear,  intense  hatred,  secrecy,  and,  in 
tact,  almost  all  emotions  when  carried  to  an  extreme  and 
beyond  the  control  and  restraint  of  the  will,  tend  to 
breathy,  or  aspirated,  tone.  An  example  of  this  is  found  in 
the  apprehension,  fear,  and  horror  of  Macbeth  and  Lady 
Macbeth  after  the  murder  of  the  sleeping  Duncan. 

Macbeth  (loithin).  Who's  there?  what,  ho! 

Lady  Macbeth.  Alack  !  I  am  afraid  they  have  awak'd^ 
And  't  is  not  done ;  the  attempt  and  not  the  deed 
Confounds  us.  Hark  !  I  laid  their  daggers  ready ; 
He  could  not  miss  them.  Had  he  not  resembled 
My  father  as  he  slept,  I  had  done  't.  My  husband ! 

Enter  Macbeth 

Macbeth.  I  have  done  the  deed.  Didst  thou  not  hear  a 
noise  ? 

Lady  Macbeth.  I  heard  the  owl  scream  and  the  crickets  cry. 
Did  not  you  speak  ? 

Macbeth.  When  ? 

Lady  Macbeth.  Now. 

Macbeth.  As  I  descended? 

Lady  Macbeth.  Ay. 


VOCAL  QUALITY  S119 

Macbeth.  Hark ! 
Who  lies  i'  the  second  chamber  ? 

Lady  Macbeth.  Donalbain. 

Macbeth  (looking  on  his  hands).  This  is  a  sorry  sight. 

Lady  Macbeth.  A  foolish  thought  to  say  a  sorry  siglit. 

Macbeth.  There  's  one  did    laugh  in  's  sleep,   and  one  cried 
"  Murder !  " 
That  they  did  wake  each  other :  I  stood  and  heard  them ; 
But  they  did  say  their  prayers,  and  address'd  them 
Again  to  sleep. 

Shakespeare :  Macbeth^  ii,  ii. 

39.  Faults  in  vocal  quality 
Faults  in  tlie  quality  of  voice  are  of  two  classes ;  namel}'. 
(1)  those  caused  by  malformation  of  some  part  of  the  vocal 
apparatus  or  by  obstruction  of  the  resonance  chambers,  such 
as  lack  of  the  soft  palate,  ill-formed  upper  or  lower  jaw. 
enlarged  tonsils,  inflammation  of  the  throat  or  larynx,  and 
similar  disorders,  all  of  which  come  within  the  province  of 
the  physician;  and  (2)  those  due  to  misadjustment  and 
misuse  of  an  otherwise  normal  vocal  instrument,  or  to  a. 
lack  of  responsiveness  of  the  muscles  and  the  tissues  con- 
cerned in  vocalization  to  the  stimulus  of  thought  and  f  eelingt 
One  occasionally  meets  an  individual  whose  voice  under- 
goes no  shade  of  change  in  quality,  whether  the  utterance 
be  of  joy,  sorrow,  fear,  or  hope.  Bad  qualities  of  tone 
arising  from  misadjustment  or  bad  use  may  be  modified  to 
a  considerable  extent,  and  oftentimes  entirely  removed,  by 
assiduous  practice  under  the  direction  of  a  skilled  teacher 
of  voice.  But  no  more  effective  means  of  bringrino:  the  in- 
flexible  and  unresponsive  voice  into  obedient  relation  to 
mind,  imagination,  and  emotion  is  to  be  found  than  by  the 
education  of  these  faculties  through  the  study  of  all  forms 
of  art  and  literature,  and  by  such  vocal  practice  as  this 
chapter  suggests. 


2U  ORAL  READING 

TROBLEMS    IN    VOCAL   QUALITY 

1.  Conversational 

1.  So  live  tliat  your  aflersclf  —  the  man  you  ought  to  be  — 
may  in  his  time  be  possible  and  actual.  Far  away  in  the 
twenties,  the  thirties  of  the  Twentieth  Century,  he  is  await- 
ing his  turn.  His  body,  his  brain,  his  soul  are  in  your  boyish 
hands.  He  cannot  help  himself.  What  will  you  leave  for  him? 
Will  it  be  a  brain  unspoiled  by  lust  or  dissipation,  a  mind 
trained  to  think  and  act,  a  nervous  system  true  as  a  dial  in 
its  response  to  the  truth  about  you  ?  Will  you,  boy  of  the 
Twentieth  Century,  let  him  come  as  a  man  among  men  in  his 
time,  or  will  you  throw  away  his  inheritance  before  he  has 
had  the  chance  to  touch  it  ?  AVill  you  let  liim  come,  taking 
your  place,  gaining  through  your  experience,  hallowed  through 
your  joys,  building  on  them  his  own,  or  will  you  fling  his  hope 
away,  decreeing,  wanton-like,  that  the  man  you  might  have 
been  shall  never  be  ? 

Jordan :   The  Call  of  the  Twentieth  Century} 

2.  We  may  have  but  a  few  thousands  of  days  to  spend,  perhaps 
hundreds  only  —  perhaps  tens  ;  nay,  the  longest  of  our  time 
and  best,  looked  back  on,  will  be  but  as  a  moment,  as  the 
twinkling  of  an  eye ;  still,  we  are  men,  not  insects  ;  we  are 
living  spirits,  not  passing  clouds.  *'  He  raaketh  the  winds  His 
messengers ;  the  momentary  fire,  His  minister ; "  and  shall 
we  do  less  than  these  ?  Let  us  do  the  work  of  men  while  we 
bear  the  form  of  them.  Ruskin  :  The  Mystery  of  Life. 

3.  In  closing,  let  me  mention,  by  way  of  illustration,  a  most 
touching  and  instructive  scene  which  I  once  witnessed  at  the 
annual  meeting  in  the  great  hall  of  the  Sorbonne  in  Paris  for 
the  purpose  of  awarding  medals  of  honor  to  those  who  had 
performed  acts  of  conspicuous  bravery  in  saving  human  life 
at  sea.  A  bright-eyed  boy  of  scarcely  fourteen  summers  was 
called  to  the  platform.  The  story  was  recounted  of  how  one 
winter's  night  when  a  fierce  tempest  was  raging  on  the  rude 
Normandy  coast,  he  saw  signals  of  distress  at  sea  and  started 

1  Used  with  the  kind  permission  of  the  author. 


VOCAL  QUALITY  215 

with  liis  father,  the  captain  of  a  small  vessel,  and  the  mate 
to  attempt  a  rescue.  By  dint  of  almost  superhuman  effort  the 
crew  of  a  sinking  ship  was  safely  taken  aboard.  A  wave 
washed  the  father  from  the  deck.  The  boy  plunged  into  the 
seething  waves  to  save  hira,  but  the  attempt  was  in  vain,  and 
the  father  perished.  The  lad  struggled  back  to  the  vessel,  to 
find  that  the  mate  had  also  been  washed  overboard.  Then 
lashing  himself  fast,  he  took  the  wheel  and  guided  the  boat, 
with  its  precious  cargo  of  human  souls,  through  the  howHng 
storm  safely  into  port.  The  minister  of  public  instruction, 
after  paying  a  touching  tribute  to  the  boy's  courage  in  a  voice 
broken  with  emotion,  pinned  the  medal  on  his  breast,  placed 
in  his  hands  a  diploma  of  honor,  and  then,  seizing  the  brave 
lad  in  liis  arms,  imprinted  a  kiss  on  each  cheek.  For  a  mo- 
ment the  boy  seemed  dazed,  not  knowing  which  way  to  turn, 
as  be  stood  there  with  the  tears  streaming  down  his  bronzed 
cheeks  wliile  every  one  in  that  vast  hall  wept  in  sympathy. 
Suddenly  his  eyes  turned  toward  his  old  peasant  motlier,  she 
to  whom  he  owed  his  birth  and  his  training,  as  she  sat  at  the 
back  of  the  platform  with  bended  form  and  wearing  her  wid- 
ow's cap.  He  rushed  to  her,  took  the  medal  from  his  breast, 
and,  casting  it  and  his  diploma  into  her  lap,  threw  iiimself  on 
his  knees  at  her  feet. 

Porter :  The  Soldier's  Creed?- 

2.  Strong  and  elevated  feeling 
4.  How  dull  it  is  to  pause,  to  make  an  end. 

To  rust  unburnish'd,  not  to  shine  in  use ! 
As  tho'  to  breathe  were  life !   Life  piled  on  life 
Were  all  too  little,  and  of  one  to  me 
Little  remains ;  but  every  hour  is  saved 
From  that  eternal  silence,  something  more, 
A  bringer  of  new  things ;  and  vile  it  were 
For  some  three  suns  to  store  and  hoard  myself, 
And  this  gray  spirit  yearning  in  desire 
To  follow  knowledge  like  a  sinking  star, 
Beyond  the  utmost  bound  of  human  thought. 

1  Used  with  the  kind  permission  of  the  author. 


210  ORAL  READING 

There  lies  tlie  port ;  tlie  vessel  puffs  lier  sail ; 
Tliere  gloom  the  ilark,  broad  seas.  My  mariners, 
Souls  that  have  toil'd,  and  wrought,  and  thought  with  me,  — 
That  ever  with  a  frolic  welcome  took 
The  thunder  and  tlifi  sunshine,  and  opposed 
Free  hearts,  free  foreheads, — you  and  I  are  old; 
Old  age  hath  yet  his  honour  and  liis  toil ; 
Death  closes  all ;  but  something  ere  the  end, 
Some  work  of  noble  note,  may  yet  be  done. 
Not  unbecoming  men  that  strove  with  Gods. 
The  lights  begin  to  twinkle  from  the  rocks ; 
The  long  day  wanes  ;  the  slow  moon  climbs  ;  the  deep 
Moans  round  with  many  voices.  Come,  my  friends, 
'T  is  not  too  late  to  seek  a  newer  world. 
Push  off,  and  sitting  well  in  order  smite 
The  sounding  furrows  ;  for  ray  purpose  holds 
To  sail  beyond  the  sunset,  and  the  baths 
Of  all  the  western  stars,  until  I  die. 
It  may  be  that  the  gulfs  will  wash  us  down ; 
It  may  be  we  shall  touch  the  Happy  Isles, 
And  see  the  great  Achilles,  whom  we  knew. 
Tho'  much  is  taken,  much  abides  ;  and  tho' 
We  are  not  now  that  strength  which  in  old  days 
Moved  earth  and  heaven  ;  that  which  we  are,  we  are, — 
One  equal  temper  of  heroic  hearts, 
Made  weak  by  time  and  fate,  but  strong  in  will 
To  strive,  to  seek,  to  find,  and  not  to  yield. 

Tennyson :   Ulysses. 

5.  That  so  much  of  Scripture  should  be  written  in  the  lan- 
guage of  poetry  has  excited  some  surprise  and  created  some 
inquiry ;  and  yet  in  nothing  do  we  perceive  more  clearly  than 
in  this,  the  genuineness,  power,  and  divinity  of  the  oracles  of 
our  faith.  As  the  language  of  poetry  is  that  into  which  all 
^  earnest  natures  are  insensibly  betrayed,  so  it  is  the  only 
speech  which  has  in  it  the  power  of  permanent  impression. 
The  language  of  the  imagination  is  the  native  language  of 
man.  It  is  the  language  of  his  excited  intellect,  of  his  aroused 
passions,  of  his  devotion,  of  all  the  higher  moods  and  tempera- 


VOCAL  QUALITY  217 

merits  of  his  mind.  It  was  meet,  therefore,  that  it  should  be 
the  language  of  his  revelation  from  God. 

The  language  of  poetry  is  thus  the  language  of  the  inspired 
volume.  The  Bible  is  a  mass  of  beautif  id  figures ;  its  words 
and  its  thoughts  are  alike  poetical ;  it  has  gathered  around 
its  central  truths  all  natural  beauty  and  interest ;  it  is  a  Temple 
with  one  altar  and  one  God,  but  illuminated  by  a  thousand 
varied  lights,  and  studded  with  a  thousand  ornaments.  It  has 
substantially  but  one  declaration  to  make,  but  it  utters  that 
in  the  voices  of  the  creation.  It  has  pressed  into  its  service 
the  animals  of  the  forest,  the  flowers  of  the  field,  the  stars  of 
heaven,  all  the  elements  of  nature.  The  lion  spurning  the 
sands  of  the  desert,  the  wild  roe  leaping  over  the  mountains, 
the  lamb  led  in  silence  to  the  slaughter,  the  goat  speeding  to 
the  wilderness;  the  rose  blossoming  in  Sharon,  the  lily  droop- 
ing in  the  valley,  the  apple-tree  bowing  under  its  fruit ;  the 
great  rock  shadowing  a  weary  land,  the  river  gladdening 
the  dry  place ;  the  moon  and  the  morning  star ;  Carmel  by 
the  sea,  and  Tabor  among  the  mountains ;  the  dew  from  the 
womb  of  the  morning,  the  rain  upon  the  mown  grass, 
the  rainbow  encompassing  the  landscape ;  the  light,  God's 
shadow  ;  the  thunder,  His  voice  ;  the  wind  and  the  earthquake, 
His  footsteps  :  —  all  such  varied  objects  are  made,  as  if  natu- 
rally so  designed  from  their  creation,  to  represent  Him  to 
whom  the  Book  and  all  its  emblems  point.  Thus  the  quick 
spirit  of  the  Book  has  ransacked  creation  to  lay  its  treasures 
on  Jehovah's  altar,  united  the  innumerable  rays  of  a  far- 
streaming  glory  on  the  little  hill  of  Calvary,  and  woven  a 
garland  for  the  bleeding  brow  of  Immanuel,  the  flowers  of 
which  have  been  culled  from  the  gardens  of  a  universe. 

George  Gilfillan  :  Bards  of  the  Bibles 

6.  Behind  him  lay  the  gray  Azores, 

Beliind  the  Gates  of  Hercules  ; 
Before  him  not  the  ghost  of  shores, 

Before  him  only  shoreless  seas- 
The  good  mate  said  :  "  Now  must  we  pray, 
For  lo  !  the  very  stars  are  gone. 
^  Taken  from  Espenshade's  Forensic  Declamations,  pp.  59-60. 


218  ORAL  READING 

Speak,  Admiral,  what  shall  I  say  ?  " 

"  Why  say,  '  Sail  on  !  sail  on  !  and  on !  "* 

"  My  men  grow  mutinons  day  by  day  ; 

My  men  grow  ghastly  wan  and  weak." 
The  stout  mate  thought  of  home ;  a  spray 

Of  salt  wave  washed  his  swarthy  cheek. 
*'  What  shall  I  say,  brave  Admiral,  say, 

If  we  sight  naught  but  seas  at  dawn  ?  " 
"  Why,  you  shall  say  at  break  of  day, 

'  Sail  on  !  sail  on  !  sail  on  I  and  on  ! '" 

They  sailed  and  sailed,  as  winds  might  blow, 

Until  at  last  the  blanched  mate  said  : 
"  Why,  now  not  even  God  would  know 

Should  I  and  all  my  men  fall  dead. 
These  very  winds  forget  their  way. 

For  God  from  these  diead  seas  is  gone. 
Now  speak,  brave  Admiral,  speak  and  say  —  " 

He  said  :  "  Sail  on !  sail  on  !  and  on !  " 

They  sailed.  They  sailed.  Then  spoke  the  mate: 

"  This  mad  sea  sliows  its  teeth  to-night. 
He  curls  his  lip.  he  lies  in  wait. 

With  lifted  teeth,  as  if  to  bite  ! 
Brave  Admiral,  say  but  one  good  word : 

What  shall  we  do  when  hope  is  gone  ?  " 
The  words  leapt  as  a  leaping  sword  : 

"  Sail  on  !  sail  on  !  sail  on  !  and  on  !  " 

Then,  pale  and  worn,  he  kept  his  deck, 

And  peered  through  darkness.  Ah,  that  night 
Of  all  dark  nights  !  And  then  a  speck  — 

A  light !  A  liglit !  A  light !  A  light ! 
It  grew,  a  starlit  flag  unfurled ! 

It  grew  to  he  Time's  burst  of  dawn. 
He  gained  a  world  ;  he  gave  that  world 

Its  grandest  lesson  :  "  On  and  on  !  " 

Joaquin  Miller :  Columbuc. 


VOCAL  QUALITY  219 

3.  Somber  and  reflective 

7.  The  lost  days  of  my  life  until  to-day, 

What  were  they,  could  I  see  them  on  the  street 

Lie  as  they  fell  ?  Would  they  he  ears  of  wheat 
Sown  once  for  food  but  trodden  into  clay  ? 
Or  golden  coins  squandered  and  still  to  pay  ? 

Or  drops  of  blood  dabbling  the  guilty  feet  ? 

Or  such  spilt  water  as  in  dreams  must  cheat 
The  undying  throats  of  Hell,  athirst  alway  ? 

I  do  not  see  them  here ;  but  after  death 
God  knows  I  know  the  faces  I  shall  see, 

Each  one  a  murdered  self,  with  low  last  breath. 
"  I  am  thyself,  —  what  hast  thou  done  to  me  ?  " 

"And  I  —  and  I  —  thyself,"  (lo!  each  one  saitli,) 
"  And  thou  thyself  to  all  eternity  !  " 

Rossetti :  Lost  Days. 

8.  It  was  night,  and  the  rain  fell ;  and,  falling,  it  was  rain, 
but,  having  fallen,  it  was  blood.  And  I  stood  in  the  morass 
among  the  tall  lilies,  and  the  rain  fell  upon  my  head  —  and 
the  lilies  sighed  one  unto  the  other  in  the  solemnity  of  their 
desolation. 

And,  all  at  once,  the  moon  arose  through  the  thin  ghastly 
mist,  and  was  crimson  in  color.  And  mine  eyes  fell  upon  a 
huge  gray  rock  which  stood  by  the  shore  of  the  river,  and 
was  lighted  by  the  light  of  the  moon.  And  the  rock  was  gray, 
and  ghastly,  and  tall  —  and  the  rock  was  gray.  Upon  its 
front  were  characters  engraven  in  the  stone  ;  and  I  walked 
through  the  morass  of  water-lilies,  until  I  came  close  unto 
the  shore,  that  I  might  read  the  characters  upon  the  stone. 
But  I  could  not  decipher  them.  And  I  was  going  back  into  the 
morass,  when  the  moon  shone  with  a  fuller  red,  and  I  turned 
and  looked  again  upon  the  rock,  and  upon  the  characters, 
and  the  characters  were  desolation. 

And  I  looked  upward,  and  tliere  stood  a  man  upon  the 
summit  of  the  rock  ;  and  I  hid  myself  among  the  water-lilies 
that  I  might  discover  the  actions  of  the  man.    And  the  man 


2i20  ORAL  READING 

was  tall  and  stately  in  form,  and  was  wrapped  up  from  his 
shoulders  to  his  feet  in  the  toga  of  old  Rome.  And  the  out- 
lines of  his  fissure  were  indistinct  —  but  his  features  were  the 
features  of  a  deity  ;  for  the  mantle  of  the  nitjht,  and  of  tlie 
mist,  and  of  the  moon,  and  of  the  dew,  had  left  uncovered 
the  features  of  his  face.  And  his  brow  was  lofty  with  thought, 
and  his  eye  wild  with  care ;  and,  in  the  few  furrows  upon 
his  cheek  I  read  the  fables  of  sorrow,  and  weariness,  and  dis- 
gust with  mankind,  and  a  longing  after  solitude. 

And  the  man  sat  upon  the  rock,  and  leaned  his  head  upon 
his  hand,  and  looked  out  ujjon  the  desolation.  He  looked  down 
into  the  low,  unquiet  shrubbery,  and  up  into  the  tall  primeval 
trees,  and  up  higher  at  the  rustling  heaven,  and  into  the  crim- 
son moon.  And  I  lay  close  within  shelter  of  the  lilies,  and 
observed  the  actions  of  the  man.  And  the  man  trembled  in 
the  solitude ;  —  but  the  night  waned,  and  he  sat  upon  the 
rock. 

Poe  :  Silence  —  A  Fable. 

9.       Aximerle.  Where  is  the  duke  my  father  with  his  power  ? 
King  Richard.  No  matter  where;    of  comfort  no  man 
speak : 
Let 's  talk  of  graves,  of  worms,  and  epitaphs ; 
Make  dust  our  paper,  and  with  rainy  eyes 
Write  sorrow  on  the  bosom  of  the  earth. 
Let 's  choose  executors,  and  talk  of  wills  ; 
And  yet  not  so,  —  for  what  can  we  bequeath, 
Save  our  deposed  bodies  to  the  ground  ? 
Our  lands,  our  lives,  and  all  are  Bolingbroke's, 
And  nothing  can  we  call  our  own  but  death, 
And  that  small  model  of  the  barren  earth 
Which  serves  as  paste  and  cover  to  our  bones. 
For  God's  sake,  let  us  sit  upon  the  ground 
And  tell  sad  stories  of  the  death  of  kings : 
How  some  have  been  depos'd,  some  slain  in  war, 
Some  haunted  by  the  ghosts  they  have  depos'd. 
Some  poison'd  by  their  wives,  some  sleeping  kill'd ; 
All  murder'd :  for  within  the  hollow  crown 
That  rounds  the  mortal  temples  of  a  king 


VOCAL  QUALITY  221 

Keeps  Death  his  court,  and  there  the  antio  sits, 

Scoffing  his  state  and  grinning  at  his  pomjj, 

Allowing  him  a  breath,  a  little  scene, 

To  monarchize,  be  fear'd,  and  kill  with  looks, 

Infusing  him  with  self  and  vain  conceit, 

As  if  this  flesh  which  walls  about  our  life 

Were  brass  impregnable ;  and  humour'd  thus 

Comes  at  the  last,  and  with  a  little  pin 

Bores  through  his  castle  wall,  and  —  farewell  king! 

Cover  your  heads,  and  mock  not  flesh  and  blood 

With  solemn  reverence  ;  throw  away  respect, 

Tradition,  form,  and  ceremonious  duty ; 

For  you  have  but  mistook  me  all  this  while : 

I  live  with  bread  like  jou,  feel  want, 

Taste  grief,  need  friends :  subjected  thus. 

How  can  you  say  to  me  I  am  a  king  ? 

Shakespeare  :  Blchard  II,  lil,  ii. 

4.  Genial  and  exultant 

10.  Old  Fezziwig  laid  down  his  pen,  and  looked  up  at  the 
clock,  which  pointed  to  the  hour  of  seven.  He  rubbed  his 
hands ;  adjusted  his  capacious  waistcoat ;  laughed  all  over 
himself,  from  his  shoes  to  his  organ  of  benevolence ;  and 
called  out,  in  a  comfortable,  oily,  rich,  fat,  jovial  voice  :  — 

"  Yo  ho,  there  !  Ebenezer  !  Dick  !  " 

Scrooge's  former  self,  now  growm  a  young  man,  came 
briskly  in,  accompanied  by  his  fellow-'prentice. 

"  Dick  Wilkins,  to  be  sure !  "  said  Scrooge  to  the  Ghost. 
*'  Bless  me,  yes.  There  he  is.  He  Avas  very  much  attached  to 
me,  was  Dick.  Poor  Dick  !   Dear,  dear !  " 

"  Yo  ho,  my  boys  !  "  said  Fezziwig.  "  No  more  work  to- 
night. Christmas  Eve,  Dick.  Christmas,  Ebenezer!  Let's 
have  the  shutters  up,"  cried  old  Fezziwig,  with  a  sharp  clap 
of  his  hands,  "  before  a  man  can  say  Jack  Robinson !  " 

You  would  n't  believe  how  those  two  fellows  went  at  it ! 
They  charged  into  the  street  with  the  shutters  —  one,  two, 
three  —  had  'em  up  in  their  places  —  four,  five,  six  —  barred 
'em  and  pinned  'em  —  seven,  eight,  nine  —  and  came  back 


222  ORAL  READING 

before  you  could  have  got  to  twelve,  panting  like  race- 
horses. 

"  Hilli-ho  !  "  cried  old  Fezziwig,  skipping  down  from  the 
lii;jjh  desk  with  wonderful  agility.  ''  Clear  away,  my  lads, 
and  let 's  have  lots  of  room  here  !  " 

Clear  away !  There  was  nothing  they  would  n't  have 
cleared  away,  or  could  n't  have  cleared  away,  witli  old  Fezzi- 
wig  looking  on.  It  was  done  in  a  minute.  Every  movable  was 
packed  off,  as  if  it  were  dismissed  from  public  life  forever- 
more  ;  the  floor  was  swept  and  watered,  the  lamps  were 
trimmed,  fuel  was  heaped  upon  the  fire ;  and  the  warehouse 
was  as  snug,  and  warm,  and  dry,  and  bright  a  ball-room  as 
you  would  desire  to  see  upon  a  winter's  night. 

In  came  a  fiddler  with  a  music-book,  and  went  up  to  the 
lofty  desk,  and  made  an  orchestra  of  it,  and  tuned  like  fifty 
stomach-aches.  In  came  Mrs.  Fezziwig,  one  vast,  substantial 
smile.  In  came  the  three  Miss  Fezziwigs,  beaming  and  lova- 
ble. In  came  the  six  young  followers  whose  hearts  they  broke. 
In  came  all  the  young  men  and  women  employed  in  the  busi- 
ness. In  came  the  housemaid,  with  her  cousin,  the  baker.  In 
came  the  cook,  with  her  brother's  particular  friend,  the  milk- 
man. In  came  the  boy  from  over  the  way,  who  was  suspected 
of  not  having  board  enough  from  his  master ;  trying  to  hide 
himself  behind  the  girl  from  next  door  but  one,  who  was 
proved  to  have  had  her  ears  pulled  by  her  mistress.  In  they  all 
came,  one  after  another;  some  shyly,  some  boldly,  some  grace- 
fully, some  awkwardly,  some  pushing,  some  ])ulling ;  in  they 
all  came,  anyhow  and  everyhow.  Away  they  all  went,  twenty 
couple  at  once  ;  hands  half  round  and  back  again  the  other 
way ;  down  the  middle  and  up  again ;  round  and  round 
in  various  stages  of  affectionate  grouping ;  old  top  couple 
always  turning  up  in  the  wrong  place  ;  new  top  couple  start- 
ing off  again,  as  soon  as  they  got  there  ;  all  top  couples  at  last, 
and  not  a  bottom  one  to  help  them!  When  this  result  was 
brought  about,  old  Fezziwig,  claj^ping  his  hands  to  stop  the 
dance,  cried  out,  "  Well  done  !  "  and  the  fiddler  plunged  his 
hot  face  into  a  pot  of  porter,  especially  provided  for  that 
purpose.  But,  scorning  rest,  upon  his  reappearance  he  in- 
stantly began  again,  though  there  were  no  dancers  yet,  as 


VOCAL  QUALITY  223 

if  the  other  fiddler  had  been  carried  home,  exhausted,  on  a 
shutter,  and  he  were  a  brand-new  man  resolved  to  beat  him 
out  of  sight,  or  perish. 

There  were  more  dances,  and  there  were  forfeits,  and  more 
dances,  and  there  was  cake,  and  there  was  n^gus,  and  there 
was  a  great  piece  of  cold  roast,  and  there  was  a  great  piece 
of  cold  boiled,  and  there  were  mince-pies,  and  plenty  of  beer. 
But  the  great  effect  of  the  evening  came  after  the  roast  and 
boiled,  when  the  fiddler  (an  artful  dog,  mind  !  the  sort  of  man 
who  knew  his  business  better  than  you  or  I  could  have  told 
it  him !)  struck  up  "  Sir  Roger  de  Covei"ley."  Then  old  Fez- 
ziwig  stood  out  to  dance  with  Mrs.  Fezziwig.  Top  couple, 
too  ;  with  a  good  stiff  piece  of  work  cut  out  for  them  ;  three 
or  four  and  twenty  pair  of  partners ;  people  who  were  not 
to  be  trifled  with  ;  people  who  would  dance,  and  had  no  notion 
of  walking. 

But  if  they  had  been  twice  as  many  —  ah,  four  times  — 
old  Fezziwig  would  have  been  a  match  for  them,  and  so 
would  Mrs.  Fezziwig.  As  to  her,  she  was  worthy  to  be  his 
partner  in  every  sense  of  the  term.  If  that 's  not  high  praise, 
tell  me  higher,  and  I  '11  use  it.  A  positive  light  appeared  to 
issue  from  Fezziwig's  calves.  They  shone  in  every  part  of 
the  dance  like  moons.  You  could  n't  have  predicted,  at  any 
given  time,  what  would  become  of  them  next.  And  when  old 
Fezziwig  and  Mrs.  Fezziwig  had  gone  all  through  the  dance  ; 
advance  and  retire,  both  hands  to  your  partner,  bow  and 
courtesy,  corkscrew,  thread-the-needle,  and  back  again  to 
your  place  ;  Fezziwig  "  cut "  —  cut  so  deftly,  that  he  ap- 
peared to  wink  witli  his  legs,  and  came  upon  his  feet  again 
without  a  stagger. 

When  the  clock  struck  eleven,  this  domestic  ball  broke 
up.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Fezziwig  took  their  stations,  one  on  either 
side  the  door,  and  shaking  hands  with  every  person  individu- 
ally as  he  or  she  went  out,  wished  him  or  her  a  Merry  Christ- 
mas. Wlien  everybody  had  retired  but  the  two  'prentices, 
they  did  the  same  to  them  ;  and  thus  the  cheerful  voices  died 
away,  and  the  lads  were  left  to  their  beds,  which  were  under 
a  counter  in  the  back  shop. 

Dickens :  A  Christmas  Carol. 


•iZi  ORAL  RE.VX>ING 

11.  RiiR  ^"t,  wikl  bells,  to  the  wild  sky, 

The  Hying  cloud,  the  frosty  light: 
The  year  is  dying  in  the  night ; 
Ring  out,  wild  bells,  and  let  him  die. 

Ring  out  the  old.  ring  in  the  new, 
King,  happy  bells,  across  the  snow; 
The  year  is  going,  let  him  go ; 

Ring  out  the  false,  ring  in  the  true. 

Ring  out  the  want,  the  care,  the  sin, 
The  faithless  coldness  of  the  times ; 
Ring  out,  ring  out  my  mournful  rhymes, 

But  ring  the  fuller  minstrel  in. 

Ring  out  false  pride  in  place  and  blood, 

The  civic  slander  and  the  spite ; 

Ring  in  the  love  of  truth  and  right, 
Ring  in  the  common  love  of  good. 

Ring  out  old  shapes  of  foul  disease; 

Ring  out  the  narrowing  lust  of  gold ; 

Ring  out  the  thousand  wars  of  old, 
Ring  in  the  thousand  years  of  peace. 

Ring  in  the  valiant  man  and  free, 
The  larger  heai-t,  the  kindlier  hand  ; 
Ring  out  the  darkness  of  the  land, 

Ring  in  the  Christ  that  is  to  be. 

Tennyson  :  In  Memoriam,  cvi. 

12.  Duke  Senior.  Now,  my  co-mates  and  brothers  in  exile, 
Hath  not  old  custom  made  this  life  more  sweet 

Than  that  of  painted  pomp  ?  Are  not  these  woods 
More  free  from  peril  than  the  envious  court? 
Here  feel  we  not  the  penalty  of  Adam, 
The  seasons'  difference,  —  as  the  icy  fang 
And  churlish  chiding  of  the  winter's  wind, 
Which,  when  it  bites  and  blows  upon  my  body. 
Even  till  I  shrink  with  cold,  I  smile  and  say, 


VOCAL  QUALITY  £25 

"  This  is  no  flattery  :  these  are  counsellors 

That  feelingly  persuade  me  what  I  am." 

Sweet  are  the  uses  of  adversity, 

Which,  like  the  toad,  ugly  and  venomous, 

Wears  yet  a  precious  jewel  in  his  head  ; 

And  this  our  life,  exempt  from  public  haunt. 

Finds  tongues  in  trees,  books  in  the  running  brooks, 

Sermons  in  stones,  and  good  in  everything. 

Shakespeare  :  As  You  Like  It,  ll,  io 

13.  'T  was  a  jolly  old  pedagogue,  long  ago, 

Tall  and  slender,  and  sallow  and  dry ; 
His  form  was  bent,  and  his  gait  was  slow, 
His  long,  thin  hair  was  as  white  as  snow, 

But  a  wonderful  twinkle  shone  in  his  eye ; 
And  he  sang  every  night  as  he  went  to  bed, 

"  Let  us  be  happy  down  here  below ; 
The  living  should  live,  though  the  dead  be  dead," 

Said  the  jolly  old  pedagogue,  long  ago. 

He  taught  his  scholars  the  rule  of  three. 

Writing,  and  reading,  and  history,  too ; 
He  took  the  little  ones  up  on  his  knee. 
For  a  kind  old  heart  in  his  breast  had  he, 

And  the  wants  of  the  littlest  child  he  knew. 
"  Learn  while  you  're  young,"  he  often  said, 

"  There  is  much  to  enjoy,  down  here  below; 
Life  for  the  living,  and  rest  for  the  dead !  " 

Said  the  jolly  old  pedagogue,  long  ago. 

He  lived  in  the  house  by  the  hawthorn  lane. 

With  roses  and  woodbine  over  the  door  ; 
His  rooms  were  quiet,  and  neat,  and  plain, 
But  a  spirit  of  comfort  there  held  reign. 

And  made  him  forget  he  was  old  and  poor; 
"  I  need  so  little,"  he  often  said  ; 

"  And  my  friends  and  relatives  here  below 
Won't  litigate  over  me  when  I  am  dead," 

Said  the  jolly  old  pedagogue,  long  ago. 


226  ORAL  READING 

He  smoked  his  pipe  in  the  balmy  air, 

Every  night  when  the  siin  went  down, 
While  the  soft  wind  played  in  his  silvery  hair, 
Leavinu;  its  tenderest  kisses  there, 

On  the  jolly  old  pedagogue's  jolly  old  crown: 
And,  feeling  the  kisses,  he  smiled,  and  said, 

'T  was  a  glorious  world,  down  here  below; 
"  Why  wait  for  happiness  till  we  are  dead  ?  " 

Said  the  jolly  old  pedagogue,  long  ago. 

George  Arnold  :  The  Jolhj  Old  Pedagogue. 

5.  Abnormal  qualities 
14.  When  the  coffee  was  done,  the  Jew  drew  the  saucepan  to 
the  hob.  Standing,  then,  in  an  irresolute  attitude  for  a  few 
minutes,  as  if  he  did  not  well  know  how  to  employ  himself, 
he  turned  round  and  looked  at  Oliver,  and  called  him  by  his 
name.  He  did  not  answer,  and  was  to  all  appearance  asleep. 

After  satisfying  himself  upon  this  head,  the  Jew  stepped 
gently  to  the  door:  which  he  fastened.  He  then  drew  forth, 
as  it  seemed  to  Oliver,  from  some  trap  in  the  floor,  a  small 
box,  which  he  placed  carefully  on  the  table.  His  eyes  glis- 
tened as  he  raised  the  lid,  and  looked  in.  Dragging  an  old 
chair  to  the  table,  he  sat  down  ;  and  took  from  it  a  magnifi- 
cent gold  watch,  sparkling  with  jewels. 

"  Aha !  "  said  the  Jew,  shrugging  up  his  shoulders,  and 
distorting  every  feature  with  a  hideous  grin.  "  Clever  dogs  ! 
Clever  dogs !  Staunch  to  the  last !  Never  told  the  old  parson 
where  they  were.  Never  peached  upon  old  Fagin  !  And  why 
should  they  ?  It  would  n't  have  loosened  the  knot,  or  kept 
the  drop  up,  a  minute  longer.  No,  no,  no !  Fine  fellows ! 
Fine  fellows  !  " 

At  least  half  a  dozen  more  were  severally  drawn  forth 
from  the  same  box,  and  surveyed  with  equal  pleasure  ;  be- 
sides rings,  brooches,  bracelets,  and  other  articles  of  jewel- 
lery, of  such  magnificent  materials,  and  costly  workmanship, 
that  Oliver  had  no  idea,  even  of  their  names. 

"  What  a  fine  thing  capital  punishment  is !  Dead  men 
never  repent ;  dead  men  never  bring  awkward  stories  to 
light  Ah,  it 's  a  fine  thing  for  the  trade !  Five  of  'em  strung 


VOCAL  QUALITY  227 

up  in  a  row,  and  none  left  to  play  booty,  or  turn  white-liv- 
ered !  " 

As  the  Jew  uttered  these  words,  his  bright  dark  eyes  fell 
on  Oliver's  face ;  the  boy's  eyes  were  fixed  on  his  in  mute 
curiosity ;  and  although  the  recognition  was  only  for  an  in- 
stant—  it  was  enough  to  show  the  old  man  that  he  had  been 
observed.  He  closed  the  lid  of  the  box  with  a  loud  crash ; 
and,  laying  his  hand  on  a  bread  knife  which  was  on  the  table, 
started  furiously  up.  .  .  . 

"  What 's  that  ?  "  said  the  Jew.  "  "What  do  you  watch  me 
for?  Why  are  you  awake  ?  What  have  you  seen  ?  Speak  out, 
boy  !  Quick  —  quick  !  for  your  life  !  " 

"  I  was  n't  able  to  sleep  any  longer,  sir,"  replied  Oliver, 
meekly.  '*  I  am  very  sorry  if  I  have  disturbed  you,  sir." 

''  You  were  not  awake  an  hour  ago  ?  "  said  the  Jew,  scowl- 
ing fiercely  on  the  boy. 
"No  !  No,  indeed  !  "  replied  Oliver. 

"  Are  you  sure  ?  "  cried  the  Jew,  with  a  still  fiercer  look 
than  before,  and  a  threatening  attitude. 

"  Upon  my  word  I  was  not,  sir,"  replied  Oliver,  earnestly. 
"  I  was  not,  indeed,  sir." 

"  Tush,  tush,  my  dear !  "  said  the  Jew,  abruptly  resuming 
his  old  manner,  and  playing  with  the  knife  a  little,  before  he 
laid  it  down ;  as  if  to  induce  the  belief  that  he  had  caught  it 
up  in  mei'e  sport.  "  Of  course  I  know  that,  my  dear.  I  only 
tried  to  frighten  you.  You  're  a  brave  boy.  Ha !  ha !  you  're 
a  brave  boy,  Oliver  1  "  .  .   . 

"  Did  you  see  any  of  these  pretty  things,  my  dear  ?  " 

*'  Yes,  sir,"  replied  Oliver. 

"  Ah !  "  said  the  Jew,  turning  rather  pale.  "  They  — 
they're  mine,  Oliver;  my  little  property.-  All  I  have  to  live 
upon,  in  my  old  age.  The  folks  call  me  a  miser,  my  dear. 
Only  a  miser  ;  that's  all." 

Oliver  thought  the  old  gentleman  must  be  a  decided  miser 
to  live  in  such  a  dirty  place,  with  so  many  watches ;  but  he 
only  cast  a  deferential  look  at  the  Jew,  and  asked  if  he  might 
get  up. 

"  Certainly,  my  dear,  certainly,"  replied  the  old  gentleman. 
"  Stay.  There  's  a  pitcher  of  water  in  the  corner  by  the  door. 


2^8  ORAL  READING 

Bring  it  here  ;  and  I  '11  give  you  a  biisin  to  wash  in,  my 
dear." 

Oliver  got  up  ;  walked  across  the  room  ;  and  stooped  for  an 
instant  to  raise  the  pitcher.  When  he  turned  his  head,  the 
box  was  gone. 

Dickens  :  Oliver  Twist,  chap.  ix. 

15.  (Thunder  and  lightning.)  Enter  Three  Witches 
First  Witch.  When  shall  we  three  meet  again 

In  thunder,  lightning,  or  in  rain  ? 
Second   Witch.  When  the  hurlyburly's  done, 
When  the  battle's  lost  and  won. 
Third  Witch.  That  will  be  ere  the  set  of  sun. 
First  Witch.  Where  the  place  ? 
Second  Witch.  Upon  the  heath. 

Third  Witch.  There  to  meet  with  Macbeth. 
First  Witch.  I  come,  Graymalkin  ! 
Second  Witch.  Paddock  calls. 
Third  Witch.  Anon. 
All.  Fair  is  foul,  and  foul  is  fair : 
Hover  through  the  fog  and  filthy  air. 

Shakespeare  :  Macbeth,  I,  i. 

16.  Doctor.  I  have  two  nights  watched  with  you,  but  can  per- 
ceive no  truth  in  your  report.  When  was  it  she  last  walked  ? 

Gentlewoman.  Since  his  majesty  went  into  the  field,  I  have 
seen  her  rise  from  her  bed,  throw  her  night-gown  upon  her, 
unlock  her  closet,  take  forth  paper,  fold  it,  write  upon  't,  read 
it,  afterwards  seal  it,  and  again  return  to  bed ;  yet  all  this 
while  in  a  most  fast  sleep. 

Doctor.  A  great  perturbation  in  nature,  to  receive  at  once 
the  benefit  of  sleep  and  do  the  effects  of  watching !  In  this 
sliimbery  agitation,  besides  her  walking  and  other  actual  per- 
formances, what,  at  any  time,  have  you  heard  her  say? 

Gentlewoman.  That,  sir,  which  I  will  not  report  after  her. 

Doctor.  You  may  to  me,  and  't  is  most  meet  you  should. 

Gentlewoman.  Neither  to  you  nor  any  one,  having  no  wit- 
ness to  confirm  my  speech. 


VOCAL   QUALITY  22£ 

Enter  Lady  Macbeth,  with  a  taper 

Lo  you !  here  she  comes.  This  is  her  very  guise  ;  and,  upon 
my  hfe,  fast  asleep.  Observe  her ;  stand  close. 

Doctor.  How  came  she  by  that  light  ? 

Gentlewoman.  Why,  it  stood  by  her:  she  has  light  by  hex 
continually  ;  't  is  her  command. 

Doctor.  You  see,  her  eyes  are  open. 

Gentlewoman.  Ay,  but  their  sense  is  shut. 

Doctor.  What  is  it  she  does  now  ?  Look,  how  she  rubs  her 
hands. 

Gentlewoman.  It  is  an  accustomed  action  with  her,  to  seem 
thus  washing  her  hands.  I  have  known  her  continue  in  this 
a  quarter  of  an  hour. 

Lady  Macbeth.  Yet  here  's  a  spot. 

Doctor.  Hark  !  she  speaks.  I  will  set  down  what  comes  from 
her,  to  satisfy  my  remembrance  the  more  strongly. 

Lady  Macbeth.  Out,  damned  spot !  out,  I  say  !  One  ;  two  : 
why,  then,  'tis  time  to  do  't.  Hell  is  murky!  Fie,  my  lord, 
fie  !  a  soldier,  and  af eard  ?  What  need  we  fear  who  knows  it, 
when  none  can  call  our  power  to  account  ?  Yet  who  would 
have  thought  the  old  man  to  have  had  so  much  blood  in  him  ? 

Doctor.  Do  you  mark  that  ? 

Lady  Macbeth.  The  Thane  of  Fife  had  a  wife  :  where  is 
she  now  ?  What !  will  these  hands  ne'er  be  clean  ?  No  more  o' 
that,  my  lord,  no  more  o'  that :  you  mar  all  with  this  starting. 

Doctor.  Go  to,  go  to  ;  you  have  known  what  you  should  not. 

Gentlewoman.  She  has  spoke  what  she  should  not,  I  am 
sure  of  that ;  Heaven  knows  what  she  has  known. 

Lady  Macbeth.  Here 's  the  smell  of  the  blood  still :  all  the  per- 
fumes of  Arabia  will  not  sweeten  this  little  hand.   Oh !  oh !  oh! 

Doctor.  What  a  sigh  is  there  !  The  heart  is  sorely  charged. 

Gentlewoman.  I  would  not  have  such  a  heart  in  my  bosom 
for  the  dignity  of  the  whole  body. 

Doctor.  Well,  well,  well. 

Gentlewoman.  Pray  God  it  be,  sir. 

Doctor.  Tliis  disease  is  beyond  my  practice :  yet  I  have 
known  those  which  have  walked  in  their  sleep  who  have  died 
holily  in  their  beds. 


230  ORAL  READING 

Lady  Macbeth.  Wash  your  liands,  put  on  your  night-gown ; 
look  not  so  pale.  1  tell  you  yet  again,  liauquo  's  buried  ;  he 
cannot  come  out  on  's  grave. 

Doctor.  Even  so  ? 

Lad;/  Macbeth.  To  bed,  to  bed  !  tliere  's  knocking  at  the 
gate.  Come,  come,  come,  come,  give  me  your  hand.  What 's 
done  cannot  be  undone.  To  bed,  to  bed,  to  bed  ! 

Doctor.  Will  she  go  now  to  bed  ? 

Gentlewoman.  Directly. 

Doctor.  Foul  whisperings  are  abroad.  Unnatural  deeds 
Do  breed  unnatural  troubles ;.  infected  minds 
To  their  deaf  pillows  will  discharge  their  secrets. 
More  needs  she  the  divine  than  the  physician. 
God,  God  forgive  us  all !  Look  after  her  ; 
Remove  from  her  the  means  of  all  annoyance, 
And  still  keep  eyes  upon  her.  So,  good-night : 
My  mind  she  has  mated,  and  amaz'd  my  sight. 
I  think,  but  dare  not  speak. 

Gentlewoman.  Good-night,  good  doctor.  (Exeunt.) 

Shakespeare :  Macbeth,  v,  i. 

6.  For  general  reading 

SCENE  FROM  THE  RIVALS 

(Act  II,  Scene  i) 

Richard  Brinsley  Sheridan 

Enter  Fag 

17.       Fag.  Sir,  there  is  a  gentleman  below  desires  to  see  you.  — > 
Shall  I  show  liim  into  the  parlour  ? 

Captain  Absolute.  Ay — you  may. 
Stay  ;  who  is  it.  Fag  ? 

Fag.  Your  father,  sir. 

Abs.  You  pujipy,  why  did  n't  you  show  him  up  directly? 

lExit  Fag. 

Now  for  a  parental  lecture  —  I  hope  he  has  heard  noth- 
ing of  the  business  that  has  brought  me  here  —  I  wish  the 
gout  had  held  him  fast  in  Devonshire,  with  all  my  soul ! 


VOCAL   QUALITY  231 

Enter  Sir  Anthomj  Absolute 

Sir,  I  am  delighted  to  see  you  here ;  looking  so  well  I  your 
sudden  arrival  at  Bath  made  me  apprehensive  for  your 
health. 

Sir  Anth.  Very  apprehensive,  I  dare  say,  Jack.  —  What, 
you  are  recruiting  here,  hey  ? 

Abs.  Yes,  sir,  I  am  on  duty. 

Sir  Anth.  WeU,  Jack,  I  am  glad  to  see  you,  though  I  did 
not  expect  it,  for  I  was  going  to  write  to  you  on  a  little 
matter  of  business.  —  Jack,  I  have  been  considering  that 
I  grow  old  and  infirm,  and  shall  probably  not  trouble  you 
long. 

Abs.  Pardon  me,  sir,  I  never  saw  you  look  more  strong 
and  hearty ;  and  I  pray  frequently  that  you  may  continue 
so. 

Sir  Anth.  I  hope  your  prayers  may  be  heard,  with  all  my 
heart.  Well  then,  Jack,  I  have  been  considering  that  I  am 
so  strong  and  hearty  I  may  continue  to  j)lague  you  a  long 
time.  Now,  Jack,  I  am  sensible  that  the  income  of  your  com- 
mission, and  what  I  have  hitherto  allowed  you,  is  but  a  small 
pittance  for  a  lad  of  your  spirit. 

Abs.  Sir,  you  are  very  good. 

Sir  Anth.  And  it  is  my  wish,  while  yet  I  live,  to  have  my 
boy  make  some  figure  in  the  world.  I  have  resolved,  there- 
fore, to  fix  you  at  once  in  a  noble  independence. 

Abs.  Sir,  your  kindness  overpowers  me  —  such  generosity 
makes  the  gratitude  of  reason  more  lively  than  the  sensations 
even  of  filial  affection. 

Sir  Anth.  I  am  glad  you  are  so  sensible  of  my  atten- 
tion —  and  you  shall  be  master  of  a  large  estate  in  a  few 
weeks. 

Abs.  Let  my  future  life,  sir,  speak  my  gratitude  ;  I  cannot 
express  the  sense  I  have  of  your  munificence.  —  Yet,  sir,  I 
presume  you  would  not  wish  me  to  quit  the  army  ? 

Sir  Anth.  Oh,  that  shall  be  as  your  wife  chooses. 

Abs.  My  wife,  sir! 

Sir  Anth.  Ay,  ay,  settle  that  between  you  —  settle  that  be' 
tween  you. 


232  ORAL  READING 

Af>s.  A  wifp,  sir,  did  you  say  ? 

Sir  Anth.  Ay,  a  wife  —  why,  did  not  I  mention  her  be- 
fore ? 

Ah.<.  Not  a  word  of  her,  sir. 

Sir  Anth.  Odd  so  !  —  I  must  n't  forget  her  thougk.  —  Yes, 
Jack,  the  independence  I  was  talking  of  is  by  a  marriage  — 
the  fortune  is  saddled  with  a  wife  —  but  I  suppose  that  makes 
no  difference. 

Abs.  Sir  !  sir  !  —  you  amaze  me  ! 

Sir  Anth.  Why,  what  the  devil 's  the  matter  with  the  fool  ? 
Just  now  you  were  all  gratitude  and  duty. 

Abs.  I  was,  sir  —  you  talked  to  me  of  independence  and  a 
fortune,  but  not  a  word  of  a  wife. 

Sir  Anth.  Why  —  what  difference  does  that  make  ?  Odds 
life,  sir  I  if  you  have  the  estate,  you  must  take  it  with  the  live 
stock  on  it,  as  it  stands. 

Abs.  If  my  happiness  is  to  be  the  price,  I  must  beg  leave 
to  decline  the  purchase.  —  Pray,  sir,  who  is  the  lady  ?  ^ 

Sir  Anth.  What 's  that  to  you,  sir  ?  —  Come,  give  me  your 
promise  to  love,  and  to  marry  her  directly. 

Abs.  Sure,  sir,  this  is  not  very  reasonable,  to  summon  my 
affections  for  a  lady  I  know  nothing  of ! 

Sir  Anth.  I  am  sure,  sir,  't  is  more  unreasonable  in  you  to 
object  to  a  lady  you  know  nothing  of. 

Abs.  Then,  sir,  I  must  tell  you  plainly  that  my  inclina- 
tions are  fixed  on  another  —  my  heart  is  engaged  to  an 
angel. 

Sir  Anth.  Then  pray  let  it  send  an  excuse.  It  is  very 
sorry  —  but  business  prevents  its  waiting  on  her. 

Abs.  But  my  vows  are  pledged  to  her. 

Sir  Anth.  Let  her  foreclose,  Jack  ;  let  her  foreclose  ;  they 
are  not  worth  redeeming ;  besides,  you  have  the  angel's  vows 
in  exchange,  I  suppose ;  so  there  can  be  no  loss  there. 

Abs.  You  must  excuse  me,  sir,  if  I  tell  you,  once  for  all, 
that  in  tliis  point  I  cannot  obey  you. 

Sir  Anth.  Hark'ee,  Jack;  —  I  have  heard  you  for  some 
time  with  patience  —  I  have  been  cool  —  quite  cool ;  but  take 

I  It  chances  that  the  lady  whom  Sir  Anthony  proposes  for  Lis  son  is  the  one 
to  -rhom  Captaiu  Absolute  is  already  engaged. 


VOCAL   QUALITY  233 

care  —  you  know  I  am  compliance  itself -*-- when  I  am  not 
thwarted  ;  —  no  one  more  easily  led  —  when  ybave  my  own 
way  ;  —  but  don't  put  me  in  a  frenzy.  ^  {^y'.. 

Abs.  Sir,  I  must  repeat  it  —  in  this  I  cannot  ofeyyou. 

Sir  Anth.  Now  damn  me !  if  ever  I  call  you  Jadk  again 
■while  I  lire!  -.'v-  ■ 

Ahs.  Nay,  sir,  but  hear  me. 

Sir  Anth.  Sir,  I  won't  hear  a  word  —  not  a  word !  not  one 
word !  so  give  me  your  promise  by  a  nod  —  and  I  '11  tell  you 
what.  Jack  —  I  mean,  you  dog —  if  you  don't,  by  — 

Ahs.  What,  sir,  promise  to  link  myself  to  some  mass  of 
ugliness !  to  — 

Sir  Anth.  Zounds!  sirrah  I  the  lady  shall  be  as  ugly  as  I 
choose :  she  shall  have  a  hump  on  each  shoulder ;  she  shall 
be  as  crooked  as  the  crescent ;  her  one  eye  shall  roll  like  the 
bull's  in  Cox's  Museum  ;  she  shall  have  a  skin  like  a  mummy, 
and  the  beard  of  a  Jew  —  she  shall  be  all  this,  sirrah  !  —  yet 
I  will  make  you  ogle  her  all  day,  and  sit  up  all  night  to  write 
sonnets  on  her  beauty. 

Ahs.  This  is  reason  and  moderation  indeed ! 

Sir  Anth.  None  of  your  sneering,  puppy  !  no  grinning, 
jackanapes ! 

Ahs.  Indeed,  sir,  I  never  was  in  a  worse  humour  for  mirth 
in  my  life. 

Sir  Anth.  'T  is  false,  sir,  I  know  you  are  laughing  in  your 
sleeve ;  I  know  you  '11  grin  when  I  am  gone,  sirrah ! 

Abs.  Sir,  I  hope  I  know  my  duty  better. 

Sir  Anth.  None  of  your  passion,  sir!  none  of  your  vio- 
lence, if  you  please  !  —  It  won't  do  with  me,  I  promise  you. 

Ahs.  Indeed,  sir,  I  never  was  cooler  in  my  life. 

Sir  Anth.  'T  is  a  confounded  lie  !  —  I  know  you  are  in  a 
passion  in  your  heart ;  I  know  you  are,  you  hypocritical  young 
dog !  but  it  won't  do. 

Abs.  Nay,  sir,  upon  my  word  — 

Sir  Anth.  So  you  will  fly  out !  can't  you  be  cool  like  me  ? 
What  the  devil  good  can  passion  do  ?  —  Passion  is  of  no  serv- 
ice, you  impudent,  insolent,  overbearing  reprobate !  —  There, 
you  sneer  again  !  don't  provoke  me  I  — but  you  rely  upon  the 
mildness  of  my  temper  —  you  do,  you  dog  !  you  play  upon  the 


234  ORAL  READING 

meekness  of  my  disposition!  — Yet  take  care  —  the  patience 
of  a  saint  may  be  overcome  at  last !  —  but  mark  !  I  give  you  six 
hours  and  a  half  to  consider  of  this:  if  you  then  agree,  with- 
out any  condition,  to  do  everything  on  earth  that  I  choose, 
why  —  confound  you  !  I  may  in  time  forgive  you.  —  If  not, 
zounds  I  don't  enter  the  same  hemisphere  witli  me  !  don't  dare 
to  breathe  the  same  air,  or  use  the  same  light  with  me ;  but 
get  an  atmosphere  and  a  sun  of  your  own  !  I  '11  strip  you  of 
your  commission ;  I  'U  lodge  a  five-and-threepence  in  the 
hands  of  trustees,  and  you  shall  live  on  the  interest.  —  I  '11 
disown  you,  I  '11  disinherit  you,  I  '11  unget  you  !  and  damn  tne ! 
if  ever  I  call  you  Jack  again !  \_]£xit. 

Ahs.  Mild,  gentle,  considerate  father  —  I  kiss  your  hands! 

—  What  a  tender  method  of  giving  his  opinion  in  these  mat- 
ters Sir  Anthony  has  !  I  dare  not  trust  him  with  the  truth. 

—  I  wonder  what  old  wealthy  hag  it  is  that  he  wants  to  be- 
stow on  me !  —  Yet  he  married  himself  for  love  !  and  was  in 
his  youth  a  bold  intriguer,  and  a  gay  companion  ! 

Re-enter  Fag 

Fag.  Assuredly,  sir,  your  father  is  wroth  to  a  degree ;  he 
comes  down  stairs  eight  or  ten  steps  at  a  time  —  muttering, 
growling,  and  thumping  the  banisters  all  the  way :  I  and  the 
cook's  dog  stand  bowing  at  the  door  —  rap !  he  gives  me  a 
stroke  on  the  head  with  his  cane;  bids  me  carry  that  to  my  mas- 
ter ;  then  kicking  the  poor  turnspit  into  the  area,  damns  us  all, 
for  a  puppy  triumvirate  I  —  Upon  my  credit,  sir,  were  I  in 
your  place,  and  found  my  father  such  very  bad  company,  I 
should  certainly  drop  his  acquaintance. 

Ahs.  Cease  your  impertinence,  sir,  at  present.  —  Did  you 
come  in  for  nothing  more  ?  —  Stand  out  of  the  way ! 

\_Pushes  him  aside,  and  exit. 

Fag.  So !  Sir  Anthony  trims  my  master ;  he  is  afraid  to 
reply  to  his  father  —  then  vents  his  spleen  on  poor  Fag !  — 
When  one  is  vexed  by  one  person,  to  revenge  one's  self  on 
another,  who  ha})pens  to  come  in  the  way,  is  the  vilest  in- 
justice 1  Ah !  it  shows  the  worst  temper  —  the  basest  — 


VOCAL   QUALITY  235 

Enter  Boy 

Boy.  Mr.  Fag !  Mr.  Fag !  your  master  calls  you. 

Fag.  Well,  you  little  dirty  puppy,  you  need  uot  bawl  so ! 
—  The  meanest  disposition  !  the  — 

Boy.  Quick,  quick,  Mr.  Fag ! 

Fag.  Quick  !  quick  !  you  impudent  jackanapes  !  am  I  to  be 
commanded  by  you  too  ?  you  little  impertinent,  insolent, 
kitchen-bred  —  \_Exit  kicking  and  heating  him. 


CHAPTER   IX 

THE    MUSIC    OF    SPEECH 

40.   The  difference  hcttoecn  emotional  and  unemotional 
utterance 

Though  inflection  and  pitch  variation  serve  to  express 
thought  by  showing  the  logical  relation  of  ideas  and  the 
relative  value  of  words  in  revealing  meaning  accurately, 
there  is  in  impressive  speech  a  melody  made  up  of  pitch 
intervals,  inflections,  and  cadences  not  like  that  of  speech 
in  which  ideas  only  are  stated.  We  do  not  speak  the  lines  — ' 

Sunset  and  evening  star, 
And  one  clear  call  for  me,  — 

with  the  matter-of-fact  directness  we  should  use  in  saying, 
"  It  is  getting  dark  ;  it 's  time  for  me  to  go  home.''^  Like- 
wise, emotional  passages  in  narrative,  descriptive,  and  ora- 
torical prose  are  elevated  in  melody  above  the  style  of 
ordinary  talk.  The  power  of  the  following  passage  would 
be  lost  were  it  spoken  in  the  prosaic,  commonplace  manner 
of  everyday  utterance. 

With  a  wan,  fevered  face,  tenderly  lifted  to  the  cooling  breeze, 
he  looked  out  wistfully  upon  the  ocean's  changing  wonders ;  on 
its  far  sails  ;  on  its  restless  waves,  rolling  shoreward  to  break 
and  die  beneath  the  noonday  sun ;  on  the  red  clouds  of  evening, 
arching  low  to  the  horizon ;  on  the  serene  and  shining  pathway 
to  the  stars.  Let  us  think  that  his  dying  eyes  read  a  mystic 
meaning  which  only  the  rapt  and  parting  soul  may  know.  Let  up 
believe  that  in  the  silence  of  the  receding  world  he  heard  the 
great  waves  breaking  on  the  farther  shore  and  felt  already  upon 
his  wasted  brow  the  breath  of  the  eternal  morning. 

J.  G.  Blaine;  Funeral  Oration  on  Garfield.^ 

^  Used  with  the  kind  permission  of  the  Superintendent  of  DocumentB, 
'Washington,  D.C. 


THE  MUSIC  OF  SPEECH  237 

As  speech  becomes  imbued  with  imagination  and  feeling 
it  rises  in  cadence  above  that  of  discursive,  matter-of-fact 
talk,  and  assumes  something  of  the  qualities  and  melody  of 
song.i  ^]^Q  nielody  of  speech  through  which  imagination 
and  feeling  are  expressed,  and  by  means  of  which  these 
faculties  are  awakened  in  the  listener,  may  be  considered 
under  three  aspects,  namely:  (1)  Key,  (2)  Pitch  inter- 
vals, and  (3)  Inflection. 

I.  Key.  The  prevailing  and  dominant  pitch  of  the  voice 
during  the  reading  of  a  poem,  or  piece  of  jjrose,  or  in  the 
delivery  of  an  address,  is  called  key.  Fundamentally,  all 
changes  in  key  may  be  traced  to  changes  in  mental  and 
emotional  states.  Excitement  produces  muscular  tension, 
and  consequently  a  higher  pitch  of  the  voice,  while  calm 
and  controlled  moods  result  in  a  less  tense  bodily  condition 
and  a  lower  tone  of  the  voice.  The  temperament  of  the  in- 
dividual, the  conditions  under  which  he  speaks,  the  charac- 
ter of  the  thought  he  utters  and  its  effect  upon  hun,  all 
influence  the  key  of  the  voice. 

a.  Tlie  ejfect  of  teonperament  and  physical  constitution 
on  the  key  of  the  voice.  As  individuals  differ  in  temper- 
ament and  physical  make-up,  so  voices  differ  in  their  char- 
acteristic pitch.  Thus  we  have  tenor  and  baritone,  so- 
prano and  contralto  singers,  and  voices  of  high,  middle,  and 
low  pitch  in  speakers.  ^ 

1  Poetry,  and  all  literature  and  speech,  the  power  of  which  is  derived  from 
imagination  and  emotion,  has  certain  characteristics  of  song:.  Poetry,  the 
nearest  approach  in  literature  to  music,  has  rhythm,  key,  melody,  and 
■  concord  of  sweet  sounds."  Through  these  musical  qualities  its  spirit  is  ex- 
pressed, and  without  these  it  would  not  be  poetry.  The  problem  of  rendering 
the  sense  and  meaning  of  verse  clearly  without  making  it  prosaic,  and  its  im- 
agination and  emotion  and  beauty  musically  without  singing  it,  is  one  of  the 
most  difficult  tasks  of  the  reader  who  aims  at  a  simple,  natural,  and  forceful 
style. 

^  The  voice  of  each  individual  should  be  used  on  the  key  and  through  the 
range  of  the  scale  that  is  most  normal  and  easy  for  the  particular  voice. 
While  the  range  of  individual  voices  may  be  extended  by  training,  there 
:hould  be  no  forcing  of  the  vjice  from  its  normal  pitch  and  range  in  an  effort 


238  ORAL  READING 

b.  Projcctio7i  of  voice.  When  speaking  to  a  small  group 
of  pociple  in  a  small  room,  one  will  be  apt  to  use  the  voice 
on  a  lower  key  and  with  less  force  than  when  speaking  to 
a  large  audience  in  a  spacious  hall  or  out  of  doors.  The 
desire  to  be  heard,  to  project  the  voice  to  the  outermost 
limit  of  the  audience,  causes  greater  tension  and  effort. 
The  speaker  should  guard  against  the  temptation,  however, 
to  lift  the  voice  to  an  unusually  high  key  under  such  con- 
ditions, as  a  controlled  and  w^ell-modulated  voice  is  more 
easily  heard  at  a  distance  and  under  ordinary  conditions 
than  is  a  high,  strident  tone.^  As  an  exercise,  sit  and  read 
the  following  lines  quietly,  as  if  to  one  person  ;  then  rise 
and  speak  them  as  though  addressing  a  thousand,  but  with- 
out raising  the  key  of  the  voice. 

Romans,  countrymen,  and  lovers !  hear  me  for  my  cause,  and 
be  silent,  that  you  may  hear;  believe  me  for  mine  honour,  and 
have  respect  to  mine  honour,  that  you  may  believe  ;  censure  me 
in  your  wisdom,  and  awake  your  senses,  that  you  may  the  better 
judge.  If  there  be  any  in  this  assembly,  any  dear  friend  of  Cae- 
sar's, to  him  I  say,  that  Brutus'  love  to  Csesar  was  no  less  than 
his.  If  then  that  friend  demand  why  Brutus  rose  against  Caesar, 
this  is  my  answer:  Not  that  I  loved  Csesar  less,  but  that  I 
loved  Rome  more. 

Shakespeare  :  Julius  Coesar,  ill,  ii. 

c.  The  influence  of  tlioiujht  and  emotion  on  hey.  The 
character  of  the  thought  spoken  and  its  effect  upon  the 

to  imitate  the  key  of  another  in  reading  a  given  selection.  It  will  be  found, 
however,  that  when  the  thought  of  a  piece  of  literature  is  understood  and  its 
spirit  felt,  or  when  the  moods  of  individuals  are  similar,  different  voices  wiU 
approximate  a  certain  key  in  utterance.  No  one  who  catches  the  spirit  of  the 
line,  "  And  what  is  so  rare  as  a  day  in  June  !  "  would  utter  it  in  a  low  sepul- 
chral tone,  nor  the  line,  "  A  sorrow's  crown  of  sorrows  is  remembering 
happier  things,"  in  a  high  treble. 

1  It  is  interesting  to  observe  that  instruments  for  projecting  sounds  to  great 
,_.istanees,  such  as  whistling  buoys  at  sea,  fog  horns,  locomotive  and  steam- 
ship whistles,  are  low  in  pitch.  Bells  of  low  tone  are  heard  at  greater  dis- 
tances than  high-pitched  ones,  though  the  greater  carrying  power  of  the  large, 
low-keyed  bell  is  partially  due,  of  course,  to  the  greater  swing  and  energy  of 
stroke  of  the  bell  tongue. 


THE  MUSIC  OF  SPEECH  239 

mind  and  feeling  of  the  speaker  are  shown  in  the  prevailing 
and  dominant  key  of  the  voice. 

Thoughts  or  conditions  that  produce  excitement,  joy, 
anger,  and  the  like,  because  of  greater  muscular  tension, 
are  uttered  on  a  higher  key  than  are  those  of  ordinary,  con- 
trolled speech.  Read  the  following  lines  with  spirit. 

Once  more  unto  the  breach,  dear  friends,  once  more ; 

Or  close  the  wall  up  with  our  English  dead  ! 

In  peace  there  's  nothing  so  becomes  a  man 

As  modest  stillness  and  humility ; 

But  when  the  blast  of  war  blows  in  our  ears, 

Then  imitate  the  action  of  the  tiger ; 

Stiffen  the  sinews,  summon  up  the  blood, 

Disguise  fair  nature  with  hard-favour'd  rage ; 

Now  set  the  teeth  and  stretch  the  nostril  wide, 
Hold  hard  the  breath,  and  bend  up  every  spirit 
To  his  f  uU  height !  On,  on,  you  noblest  English. 

Follow  your  spirit ;  and  upon  this  charge 

Cry,  "  God  for  Harry  !  England  and  St.  George  !  " 

Shakespeare  :  Henry  V,  iii,  i. 

Blow  trumpet,  for  the  world  is  white  with  May! 
Blow  trumpet,  the  long  night  hath  roll'd  away ! 
Blow  thro'  the  living  world  —  "  Let  the  King  reign  !  " 
Tennyson:   The  Coming  of  Arthur. 

In  ordinary  conversation,  in  calm  discussion  and  unimpas- 
sioned  narration  and  description,  and  in  moods  of  serenity 
and  peace  the  middle  pitches  of  the  voice  are  used.^ 

1  Much  of  the  reading  aloud  done  in  the  home  is  of  this  character.  In  snch 
reading  care  should  be  taken  not  to  permit  the  voice  to  become  tense,  witli  a 
consequent  hig-h  key  held  throughout.  One  should  also  avoid  the  fault,  so 
common  in  ordinary  reading,  of  allowing  the  voice  to  rise  and  fall  with  a 
regular  cadence  on  all  phrases,  without  emphasis  or  other  expressive  varia- 
tion. The  principles  of  simple,  conversational  speech  should  be  observed  hore 
as  in  more  formal  reading  to  an  audience. 


940  ORAL  READING 

But  aftor  all.  the  wonder  is,  In  this  mysterious  world,  not  that 
there  is  so  much  egotism  ahroad,  hut  that  there  is  so  little  !  Con- 
sidering the  narrow  space,  the  little  cage  of  hones  and  skin,  iu 
which  our  spirit  is  confined,  like  a  fluttering  hird,  it  often  aston- 
ishes me  to  find  how  much  of  how  many  people's  thoughts  is 
not  given  to  themselves,  but  to  their  work,  their  friends,  their 
families. 

A.  C.  Benson  :  From  a  College  Window. 

^Yhen  we  give  utterance  to  tlioughts  and  feelings  arising 
from  contemplation  of  objects  and  scenes  of  grandeur  and 
majesty,  of  povrers  above  and  beyond  our  own,  and  myster- 
ies which  we  cannot  define  or  fathom,  and  when  the  spirit 
is  humble,  reverent,  or  inspired  witli  wonder  and  awe,  the 
key  of  the  voice  is  naturally  low. 

Strong  Son  of  God,  immortal  Love, 

Wliom  we,  that  have  not  seen  thy  face, 
By  faith,  and  faith  alone,  embrace, 

Believing  where  we  cannot  prove ; 

Thine  are  these  orbs  of  light  and  shade ; 

Thou  madest  life  in  man  and  brute ; 

Thou  madest  Death ;  and  lo,  thy  foot 
Is  on  the  skull  which  thou  hast  made. 

Thou  wilt  not  leave  us  in  the  dust : 
Thou  madest  man,  he  knows  not  why, 
He  thinks  he  was  not  made  to  die ; 

And  thou  hast  made  him  :  thou  art  just. 

Thou  seemest  human  and  divine, 
The  highest,  holiest  manhood,  thou. 
Our  wills  are  ours,  we  know  not  how ; 

Our  wills  are  ours,  to  make  them  thine. 

Our  little  systems  have  their  day ; 

They  have  their  day  and  cease  to  be ; 

They  are  but  broken  lights  of  thee. 
And  thou,  O  Lord,  art  more  than  they. 


THE  MUSIC  OF  SPEECH  941 

We  have  but  faith:  we  cannot  know, 
For  knowledge  is  of  things  we  see ; 
And  yet  we  trust  it  comes  from  thee, 

A  beam  in  darkness  :  let  it  grow. 

Tennyson :  In  Memoriam 

2.  Pitch  intervals.  As  the  mind  passes  from  one  thought 
to  another  the  effect  of  each  thought  and  image  on  the 
reader  whose  imagination  and  spirit  are  alert  will  be  shown 
by  the  change  in  pitch  of  the  voice.  These  changes  result 
not  alone  from  the  discriminative  action  of  the  intellect 
and  reasoning  faculties,  but  are  obedient  to  imagination 
and  feeling  as  well.  No  doubt  an  educated  musical  taste 
and  a  sensitive  ear  exercise  considerable  influence  in  melodi 
ous  utterance,  but  the  chief  factor  in  simple,  true  melody 
is  spiritual  appreciation.  The  more  strong  the  emotional 
response  of  the  speaker  to  the  thought  spoken  the  greater 
will  the  intervals  of  pitch  tend  to  be. 

The  naturalness  and  expressive  value  of  pitch  intervals 
will  be  evident  if  the  following  lines  are  read  aloud,  first 
in  an  unfeeling,  didactic  style  for  facts  only,  and  then  with 
such  sustained  vowel  sounds  and  pitch  changes  between  tne 
lines  as  a  sympathetic  understanding  of  each  new  thought 
may  dictate. 

One  more  unfortunate, 
Weary  of  breath, 
Rashly  importunate, 
Gone  to  her  death  ! 

Take  her  up  tenderly, 
Lift  her  with  care, 
Fashion'd  so  slenderly, 
Young,  and  so  fair  ! 

Look  at  her  garments 
Clinging  like  cerements; 


242  ORAL  READING 

Whilst  the  wave  constantly 
Drips  from  her  clothing  ; 
Take  her  up  instantly, 
Loving,  not  loathing ! 

Hood  :  The  Bridge  of  Sighs. 

These  heroes  are  dead.  They  died  for  liherty  —  they  died  for 
us.  Thev  are  at  rest.  Tliey  sleep  in  the  land  they  made  free, 
under  the  flag  they  rendered  stainless,  under  the  solemn  pines, 
the  sad  hemlocks,  the  tearful  willows,  and  the  embracing  vines. 
They  sleep  beneath  the  shadows  of  the  clouds,  careless  alike  of 
sunshine  or  of  storm,  each  in  the  windowless  Palace  of  Rest. 
Earth  may  vun  red  with  other  wars  —  they  are  at  peace.  In  the 
midst  of  battle,  in  the  roar  of  conflict,  they  found  the  serenity  of 
death.  I  have  one  sentiment  for  soldiers  living  and  dead :  cheers 
for  the  living ;  tears  for  the  dead. 

IngersoU  :  A  Vision  of  War.^ 

When  a  passage  is  something  more  than  a  commonplace 
statement  of  facts  and  is  given  dignity,  beauty,  and  power 
by  reason  of  its  feeling  and  imagination,  its  beauty  of  im- 
agery and  euphony  of  language,  the  melody  of  its  utter- 
ance is  made  up  largely  of  intervals  of  pitch  occurring  be- 
tween groups  of  words  spoken  with  but  little  rise  or  fall  of 
the  voice,  somewhat  as  tones  are  held  in  song.  In  such  ex- 
pression, inflection,  the  chief  function  of  which  is  to  reveal 
intellectual  and  logical  relations,  gives  place  to  change  in 
pitch  which  expresses,  and  appeals  to,  the  emotional,  intui- 
tive, imaginative,  and  spiritual  nature,  revealing  change  in 
image,  situation,  and  kind  and  degree  of  feeling. 

The  following  two  passages  describe  the  same  event,  the 
first  with  the  main  purpose  of  stating  the  facts  of  the  situ- 
ation and  action,  the  latter  with  attention  to  the  majesty 
and  tragic  grandeur  of  the  scene  and  its  effect  upon  the 
observer.  In  reading  these  two  passages  aloud,  note  how, 

1  From  vol.  ix  of  the  Collected  Works  of  Robert  G.  IngersoU.    Used  with 
the  kind  permission  of  the  publisher,  C.  P.  Farrell. 


THE  MUSIC  OF  SPEECH  243 

in  the  second  as  compared  with  the  first,  there  is  little 
inflection,  but  marked  pitch  intervals  between  phrases.  In- 
deed, the  lines  may  be  spoken  almost  as  a  chant  with  little 
other  rise  or  fall  of  the  voice  than  the  intervals  of  pitch 
that  occur  between  such  different  images  as  "Ship  after 
ship,"  "  The  whole  night  long,"  and  "  their  high-built  gal- 
leons came." 

After  the  fight  had  thus  without  intermission  continued  while 
the  day  lasted  and  some  hours  of  the  night,  many  of  our  men 
were  slain  and  hurt,  and  one  of  the  great  galleons  of  the  Armada 
and  the  Admiral  of  the  Hulks  both  sunk,  and  on  many  other  of 
the  Spanish  ships  great  slaughter  was  made.  The  Spanish  ships 
which  attempted  to  board  the  Revenge,  as  they  were  wounded  and 
beaten  off,  so  always  others  came  in  their  places,  she  having  never 
less  than  two  mighty  galleons  by  her  sides  and  aboard  her.  So 
that  ere  the  morning  from  three  of  the  clock  the  day  before,  there 
had  fi.fteen  several  Armadas  assailed  her,  and  all  so  ill  apjjroved 
their  entertainment  as  they  were  by  the  break  of  day  far  more 
willing  to  havken  to  a  composition  than  hastily  to  make  any  more 
assaults  or  entries. 

Sir  Walter  Raleigh:  The  Last  Fight  of  the  Revenge. 

And  the  sun  went  down,  and  the  stars  came  out  far  over  the  sum- 
mer sea, 

But  never  a  moment  ceased  the  fight  of  the  one  and  the  fifty- 
three. 

Ship  after  ship,  the  whole  night  long,  their  high-built  galleons 
came. 

Ship  after  ship,  the  whole  night  long,  with  her  battle-thunder 
and  flame  ; 

Ship  after  ship,  the  whole  night  long,  drew  back  with  her  dead 
and  her  shame. 

For  some  were  sunk  and  many  were  shatter'd,  and  so  could  fight 
us  no  more  — 

God  of  battles,  was  ever  a  battle  like  this  in  the  world  before  ? 
Tennyson :   The  Ballad  of  the  Revenge. 


S44  OR.\L  READING 

Read  the  followiiitij  lyric  with  little  inflection  but  with 
marked  iutervids  ot"  pitch  between  phrases  and  lines,  and 
note  how  the  charm  of  the  song  and  the  beauty  of  the  im- 
agery is  revealed  through  the  melody  of  pitch-intervals 
rather  than  through  inflection. 

Sweet  and  low,  sweet  and  low, 
Wind  of  the  western  sea, 
Low,  low,  breathe  and  blow, 

Wind  of  tbe  western  seal 
Over  the  rolling  waters  go, 
Come  from  tlie  dying  moon,  and  blow, 
Blow  him  again  to  me ; 
While  my  little  one,  while  my  pretty  one  sleeps. 

Tennyson :   The  Pi'incess. 

3.  Inflection.  Of  the  various  expressive  changes  of  the 
voice,  inflection  is  perhaps  the  most  intellectual  and  logical, 
yet,  under  the  stress  of  the  speaker's  mood,  inflections  are 
modified  and  become  exjjressive  of  shades  of  feeling  as  well 
as  of  thought.  The  difference  in  the  inflectional  range  of  the 
voice  between  the  assertion  of  fact  and  the  expression  of 
imagination  and  emotion  may  be  observed  if  you  speak  di- 
rectly and  emphatically,  as  in  discussion  with  a  friend,  the 
sentences  :  "  Don't  tell  me  that  life  does  n't  mean  anything. 
I  know  it  doefi.  Life  is  more  than  a  dream.  It  is  real  and 
earnest  and  has  a  meaning  for  time  and  eternity.^''  Now 
read  the  stanzas  from  Longfellow's  Psalm  of  Life,  pre- 
serving their  poetic  elevation  and  beauty  of  thought  and  the 
strength  of  their  faith  and  hope.' 

1  In  the  prose  statement  the  sense  is  narrowed  to  the  mere  facts  asserted  ;  in 
the  poem  the  words  arouse  noble  sentiment  and  connote  spiritual  truth,  and 
this  hint  of  larger  meaning  is  communicated  in  speech,  not  through  the  didac- 
tic, assertive  inflection  of  ordinary  talk,  but  through  inflections  of  greater 
duration  and  those  other  mc^dulations  of  the  voice,  like  change  of  pitch,  sus- 
tained vowels,  and  strong  rhythm,  which  contribute  to  the  thought  some- 
thing of  the  emotional  power  of  music.  In  song  there  is  little  inflection,  but 
much  change  of  pitch.  The  beauty  and  emotional  appeal  of  musical  expres- 


THE  MUSIC  OF  SPEECH  24f 

Tell  me  not,  in  mournful  numbers, 

Life  is  but  an  empty  dream  ! 
For  the  soul  is  dead  that  slumbers, 

And  things  are  not  what  they  seem. 

Life  is  real !  Life  is  earnest ! 

And  the  grave  is  not  its  goal ; 
Dust  thou  art,  to  dust  returnest, 

Was  not  spoken  of  the  soul. 

a.  In  earnest  utterance  prompted  by  intense  and  con- 
trolled feeling,  inflections  are  firm,  long,  strong,  and  sus- 
tained, and  are  less  subject  to  the  abrupt  and  light  leaps 
and  glides  of  the  voice  heard  in  speech  of  a  casual,  less  digni- 
fied or  formal  character. 

Macbeth.  If  it  were  done  when  't  is  done,  then  't  were  weli. 
It  were  done  quickly :  if  the  assassination 
Could  trammel  up  the  consequence,  and  catch 
With  his  surcease  success  ;  that  but  this  blow 
Might  be  the  be-all  and  the  end-all  here, 
But  here,  upon  this  bank  and  shoal  of  time, 
We  'd  jump  the  life  to  come.  But  in  these  cases 
We  still  have  judgment  here;  that  we  but  teach 
Bloody  instructions,  which,  being  taught,  return 
To  plague  the  inventor.  This  even-handed  justice 
Commends  the  ingredients  of  our  poison'd  chalice 
To  our  own  lips. 

Macbeth,  i,  vii. 

h.  In  the  reading  of  noble  and  delicate  sentiment'  and  of 
thought  strong  in  its  spiritual  appeal,  such  as  is  found  in 
much  of  our  lyric  and  epic  poetry,  inflections,  which  char- 
acterize our  off-hand,  casual  talk,  yield  to  the  musical  rise 

sion  would  be  lost  if  tones  were  changed  by  inflection  during'  their  utterance. 
The  same  is  true  of  emotional  speech.  As  utterance  is  prompted  by  strong 
feeling,  inflections  give  plac(!  to  siistaina'".  tones  on  various  pitches.  Sueli  in- 
flections as  are  needed  for  bringing  out  tne  thought  are  rarely  short  orquiok, 
except  in  light  and  playful  lyrics. 


240  ORAL  READING 

ami  fall  of  the  voice  in  intervals  of  pitch  between  lines  and 
phrases,  as  in  song.  Snch  intleetions  as  occur  differ  greatly 
in  direction,  range,  and  duration  from  those  of  onlinary, 
cursory  conversation.  The  following  lines,  taken  from  Sill's 
little  poem  entitled  ////<:',  if  read  as  indicated  in  the  inflec- 
tions suggested,  with  indifference  to  the  spiritual  signifi- 
cance of  the  poem,  are  degraded  to  the  level  of  superficial, 
"whining,  impotent  talk. 

n 
no  n 

CO  o 

o  n  t —  o 

n  r  h  n 

e  and       e  and      g  e 

r  t  i  r  ' 

o  f  n  o 

Fa  F 


o 
o  t, 

n  h 

r  g 

And      e  and        i 

t  n 

f 
a 

n 
o 
o 
n 
e  t! 

r  and  —      a 

o  b 

F  w 


The 


THE  MUSIC 

OF  SPEECH 

y 

t        g 
p        n 

re 

f. 

1 
e 

its 

e? 

r 
o 

m          o 
e          s 

peats 

m 

No 

is 
that 
a, 

e 
f 

e 
Y 

i 
L 

247 


Now  read  the  poem  with  appreciation  of  the  dignity  and 
nobility  of  its  thought.  It  will  be  found  that  much  of  the 
trivial,  upward  inflection  will  disappear,  and  the  solemn 
spirit  of  the  verse  will  be  expressed  by  intervals  of  pitch 
between  words,  and  by  falling  inflections  of  completeness 
of  thought  and  of  greater  strength,  definiteness,  and  duration. 

afternoon 
Forenoon  and  n  Forenoon 

i 
and  g 


h 


t  — 


afternoon 

and  n 
And  i 

g 
b. 

t,— 

Forenoon 

and  —  w 

h 

a 

t 


2i3  ORAL  READING 

e? 
r 

The  empty  song  re  o 

p  m 

e 
a  o 

t  N 

s 
itself. 

that  Is  L 
i 
Yea,  f 

6. 

41.  Faults  in  the  melody  of  speech 
1.  "Sing-song."  A  fault  of  frequent  occurrence  among 
untrained  readers  is  known  as  "  sing-song."  This  fault  con- 
sists of  the  I'ise  and  fall  of  the  voice  at  regular  intervals  in 
sequent  lines,  or  phrases,  with  the  recurrence  of  undue  em- 
phasis on  a  certain  metrical  beat  near  the  end  of  each  line, 
usually  in  the  next  to  the  last  foot.   Thus :  — 

ev 
Sweet  bird,  thy  bower  is  green, 

er 
eo 
Thy  sky  is  clear, 

er 

in 
There  is  no  sorrow  song, 

thy 
in 
No  winter  year, 

thy 

This  fault  seems  to  be  due  to  an  abnormal  consciousness 
and  sense  of  the  rhythmic  regularity  of  lines,  to  which  the 


THE  MUSIC  OF  SPEECH  249 

meaning  is  sacrificed.  It  may  be  corrected  by  calling  atten- 
tion to  the  thought  of  the  line  and  to  the  words  which,  if  em- 
phasized, will  reveal  the  meaning  accurately.  In  the  above 
stanza,  if  the  central  words  "  bower,"  "  green,"  "  sky," 
"clear,"  "sorrow,"  "song,"  "winter,"  "year,"  are  given 
prominence,  the  "sing-song"  melody  will  disappear.  Cor- 
rect the  meaningless  "  sing-song  "  of  the  next  familiar  stanza 
from  Gray's  Elegy  by  a  truthful  rendering  of  the  sense 
and  music  of  the  lines. 

part 
The  curfew  tolls  the  knell  of  day, 

ing 
o'er 
The  lowing  herd  winds  slowly  lea, 

the 
wear 
The  ploughman  homeward  plods  his  way, 

y 

and 
And  leaves  the  world  to  darkness  me. 

to 

2.  Intonation.  Closely  akin  to  "sing-song"  is  the  fault 
known  as  "  intonation."  This  consists  either  of  an  unnat- 
ural circumflex  inflection,  or  a  change  in  pitch  of  the  voice 
between  words,  unwarranted  by  the  sense  of  the  passage, 
in  place  of  a  direct,  natural  rising  or  falling  inflection.  It 
is  occasionally  heard  in  the  grandiloquent  style  of  some 
orators  when  they  "  soar."  Instead  of  saying  — 

are  g 
t  u 

el  e  i 

n    a  e  d 

I  have  but  o        m  f  e 

p  by  which  my  d, 


250  ORAL  READING 

such  speakers  will  say  — 

d. 

e 
d 
one  feet  i 

u 
I  have  but  by  which  my  g 

lamp  are 

While  in  liturgical  reading  intonation  is  sometimes 
taught  and  may  be  justifiable,  its  use  in  general  reading 
and  speaking  should  be  avoided.  It  destro3's  the  directness 
of  speech,  and  leads  the  listener  to  feel  that  the  speaker 
is  seeking  to  produce  effects  by  incantation  instead  of  by 
earnest,  clear  thought.  This  mannerism  may  be  overcome 
if  the  speaker  will  ask,  whenever  he  finds  himself  indulg- 
ing in  such  meaningless  intonations,  "  What  is  it  that  I 
want  to  say  ?  "  and  then  answer  in  a  direct,  conversational 
way,  using  the  words  he  has  previously  mistreated.  In  such 
an  answer  he  would  be  pretty  apt  to  discover  that  his  feet 
are  guided  by  a  "  Inm^) "  rather  than  by  the  numeral 
"  OTie."  Clear  tliinking  and  common  sense  are  the  best 
means  of  overcoming  this  fault. 

3.  Minor  cadence.  In  the  conversation  of  everyday  life 
the  voice  in  its  rise  or  fall,  passes  through  whole  tones  on 
the  musical  scale,  but  when  it  is  allowed  to  fall  shor' 
of  the  major  fiote  by  half  a  tone,  as  in  the  whine  o 
the  petulant  child,  the  cadence  is  said  to  be  in  the  minoi- 
Rarely  in  controlled  thought  and  emotion  and  in  normrl 
states  of  the  individual  is  the  minor  heard.  It  indicates 
physical  weakness  or  lack  of  control  of  the  feelings,  or  an 
attempt  on  the  part  of  the  speaker  to  produce  effect  and 
arouse  sympathy  by  artificial  means.  Instead  of  practice  to 
acquire  this  minor  slide  of   the  voice,  effort  should  rather 


THE  MUSIC  OF  SPEECH  251 

be  made  to  guard  against  the  use  of  it,  except  in  those 
rare  instances  where  the  dramatic  representation  of  abnor- 
mal characters  may  reqiiire  it.  The  rendering  of  poems  like 
Tennyson's  Crossing  the  Bar  in  the  minor  key  degrades 
snch  fine  lyrical  expressions  of  sentiment  to  sentimental 
self-pitying,  whining  complaints.  Read  this  poem  with  tin 
firm,  normal  voice  which  its  dignity,  strength  and  beauty 
demand.^ 

Sunset  and  evening  star, 

And  one  clear  call  for  me  ! 
And  may  there  be  no  moaning  of  the  bar, 

When  I  put  out  to  sea, 

But  such  a  tide  as  moving  seems  asleep, 

Too  full  for  sound  and  foam. 
When  that  which  drew  from  out  the  boundless  deep 

Turns  again  home. 

Twilight  and  evening  bell. 

And  after  that  the  dark  ! 
And  may  there  be  no  sadness  of  farewell. 

When  I  embark ; 

For  tho'  from  out  our  bourne  of  Time  and  Place 

The  flood  may  bear  me  far, 
I  hope  to  see  my  Pilot  face  to  face 

When  I  have  crost  the  bar. 

Tennyson  :   Crossing  the  Bar. 

^  It  is  hoped  that  the  above  chapter  may  serve  to  make  clear  something' of 
the  relation  existing  between  speech  and  song,  and  the  reason  of  this  kinship, 
and  that  it  may  offer  some  sugg-estions  which  shall  prove  helpful  in  over- 
coming faults  of  speech-melody  and  in  acquiring  the  ability  to  express  trut!'i> 
fully  the  spirit  of  literature.  No  two  individuals  will  read  a  given  piece  o;i 
literature  alike,  though  each  may  read  it  well.  Each  will  set  the  words  to  the 
music  of  his  own  mind,  —  a  melody  more  or  less  improvised  in  response  to 
the  play  of  imagination  and  feeling.  When  the  reader  has 

"  heard  in  his  soul  the  music 
Of  wonderful  melodies  " 

Others  will  hear  them  in  the  voice.  Rut  without  imagination  and  feeling  there 
can  be  no  music.  Nor  should  nu'lody  of  utterance  be  sought  as  a  thing  in  it- 
self. It  conies  only  as  a  result  of  fiue  sensitiveness  to  the  beauty,  imagery, 
and  spirit  of  thought. 


2J^  ORAL  READING 

PROBLEMS   IN    THE   MUSIC   OF    SPEECH^ 

1.    Unemotional  and  emotional 

1.  Francis  Bonivard  was  born  in  1496.  He  was  tlie  son  of 
Louis  Bonivard,  Lord  of  Lune,  and  at  the  age  of  sixteen  in- 
herited from  his  uncle  the  rich  priory  of  St.  Victor,  close  to 
the  walls  of  Geneva.  The  Duke  of  Savoy  liaving  attacked 
the  republic  of  Geneva,  Bonivard  warmly  espoused  its  cause, 
and  thereby  incurred  the  relentless  hostility  of  the  Duke,  who 
caused  him  to  be  seized  and  imprisoned  in  the  castle  of  Gro- 
l^e,  where  he  remained  two  years.  On  regaining  his  liberty 
he  returned  to  his  priory,  but  in  1528  he  was  again  in  arms 
against  those  who  had  seized  his  ecclesiastical  revenues.  The 
city  of  Geneva  supplied  him  with  munitions  of  war,  in  return 
for  which  Bonivard  parted  with  his  birthright,  the  revenues 
of  which  wei'e  applied  by  the  Genevese  to  the  support  of  the 
city  hospital.  He  was  afterwards  emj)loyed  in  the  service  of 
the  republic,  but  in  1530  fell  into  the  power  of  his  old  enemy, 
tlie  Duke  of  Savoy,  who  confined  him  in  the  castle  of  Cliil 
Ion.  In  1536  he  was  liberated  by  the  Bernese  and  Genevese 
forces  under  Nogelin,  and  he  died  in  1570  at  the  age  of 
seventy-four  years.  (The  Castle  of  Chillon,  with  its  massive 
walls  and  towers,  stands  on  an  isolated  rock  twenty-two  yards 
from  the  bank,  with  whicli  it  is  connected  by  a  bridge.) 

Baedeker's  Switzerland. 

Eternal  Spirit  of  the  chainless  Mind ! 

Brightest  in  dungeons.  Liberty  !  thou  art, 
For  there  tliy  habitation  is  the  heart  — 

The  heart  which  love  of  thee  alone  can  bind  ; 

And  when  thy  sons  to  fetters  are  consign'd  — 
To  fetters,  and  the  damp  vault's  dayless  gloom, 
Their  country  conquers  with  their  martyrdom, 

And  Freedom's  fame  finds  wings  on  every  wind. 

Chillon !  thy  })rison  is  a  holy  place, 

And  thy  sad  floor  an  altar  —  for  't  was  trod, 

1  In  the  first  three  problems  note  the  difference  in  the  raelody  of  Rpeefli  in 
roadini,'  the  statements  of  fact  and  the  imaginative  and  emotional  expression 
of  the  same  idea.s. 


THE  MUSIC   OF  SPEECH  253 

Until  his  very  steps  have  left  a  trace 

Worn,  as  if  thy  cold  pavement  were  a  sod, 

By  Bonnivard  !   May  none  those  marks  efface ! 
For  they  appeal  from  tryanny  to  God. 

Byron :  Sonnet  on  Chillon. 

2.  Life :  The  quality  or  fact  of  animate  existence  conceived 
as  a  part  of  an  animal's  being  or  as  a  separable  attribute  of 
his  body  ;  hence,  the  principle  or  force  by  which  animals  and 
plants  are  conceived  as  maintained  in  the  performance  of 
their  organic  functions  ;  the  vital  force,  whether  regarded  as 
physical  or  spiritual,  the  presence  of  which  distinguishes  or- 
ganic from  inorganic  matter  ;  the  duration  of  a  life  from  birth 
to  death ;  as,  the  average  human  life  is  forty  years- 
Webster's  Neio  International  Dictionary. 

Somewhere  in  the  oldest  English  writings  there  is  an  alltj- 
gory  which  has  never  faded.  Of  a  night,  it  tells  us,  a  little 
group  was  gathered  about  the  fireside  in  a  hall  where  the 
flicker  of  flame  cast  light  on  some  and  threw  others  into 
shadow,  but  none  into  shadow  so  deep  as  the  darkness  with- 
out. And  into  the  window  from  the  midst  of  the  night  flew  a 
swallow  lured  by  the  light ;  but  unable  by  reason  of  his  wild- 
ness  to  linger  among  men,  he  sped  across  the  hall  and  so  out 
again  into  the  dark,  and  was  seen  no  more.  To  this  day,  as 
nuich  as  when  the  old  poet  first  saw  or  fancied  it,  the  swal- 
low's flight  remains  an  image  of  earthly  life.  From  whence 
we  know  not,  we  come  into  the  wavering  light  and  gusty 
warmth  of  this  world ;  but  here  the  law  of  our  being  for- 
bids that  we  remain.  A  little  we  may  see,  fancying  that  we 
understand,  —  the  hall,  the  lords  and  the  servants,  the  chim 
ney  and  the  feast ;  more  we  may  feel,  —  the  light  and  tht 
warmth,  the  safety  and  the  danger,  the  hope  and  the  dread. 
Then  we  must  forth  again,  into  the  voiceless,  unseen  eterni- 
ties. 

Barrett  Wendell:  A  Literary  History  of  America} 

1  Copyright,  1900,  by  Charles  Scribner's  Sons.  Used  with  the  kind  per* 
Jiission  of  the  publishers. 


s>J4  ORAL  READING 

3.  ^Tont  Blanc  (15,782  feet  in  heiifht),  the  monarch  of  the 
Alps,  which  since  18G0  has  t'oimed  the  boundary  between 
France  and  Italy,  is  composed  chiefly  of  granite,  and  is 
shronded  with  a  stupendous  mantle  of  perpetual  snow.  It  was 
ascendi'd  for  the  iirst  time  in  178(3  by  the  guide  Jacques 
Balmat,  and  by  Dr.  Paccard  tlie  same  year.  The  ascent, 
though  very  fatiguing,  oti'ers  no  very  great  difficulties  to  ex- 
perienced mountaineers,  but  travellers  are  cautioned  against 
attempting  it  in  foggy  or  stormy  weather,  as  fatal  accidents 
liave  frequently  occurred.  The  view  fi-om  the  summit  is  ex- 
tremely grand,  though  unsatisfactory  in  the  ordinary  sense. 
Owing  to  their  great  distance,  all  objects  appear  indistinct ; 
even  in  the  clearest  weather  we  can  descry  only  the  outlines 
of  the  great  chains,  the  Swiss  Alps,  the  Jura,  the  Dauphiny, 
Graian,  and  Cottian  Alps,  and  the  Apennines. 

Baedeker's  Switzerland. 

Hast  thou  a  charm  to  stay  the  morning-star 
In  his  steep  course  ?  So  long  he  seems  to  pause 
On  thy  bald  awful  head,  O  sovran  Blanc  ! 
The  Arve  and  Arveiron  at  thy  base 
Rave  ceaselessly ;  but  thou,  most  awful  Form ! 
Risest  from  forth  thy  silent  sea  of  pines. 
How  silently  !  Around  thee  and  above 
Deep  is  the  air  and  dark,  substantial,  black, 
An  ebon  mass :  methinks  thou  piercest  it. 
As  with  a  wedge !   But  when  I  look  again, 
It  is  thine  own  calm  home,  thy  crystal  shrine, 
Thy  habitation  from  eternity  ! 

0  dread  and  silent  Mount !  I  gazed  upon  thee, 
Till  thou,  still  present  to  the  bodily  sense. 

Didst  vanish  from  my  thought :  entranced  in  prayer 

1  worshipped  the  Invisible  alone. 

Yet,  like  some  sweet  beguiling  melody. 
So  sweet,  we  know  not  we  are  listening  to  it, 
Thou,  the  meanwhile,  wast  blending  with  my  Thought, 
Yea,  with  my  Life  and  Life's  own  secret  joy : 
Till  the  dilating  Soul,  enrapt,  transfused, 


THE  MUSIC  OF  SPEECH  255  ! 

Into  the  mighty  vision  passing  —  there 

As  in  her  natural  form,  swelled  vast  to  Heaven ! 

Coleridge :  Hymn  to  Mont  Blanc. 

2.  Joy,  exultation,  anger 

4.  Holding  up  his  hands  in  a  last  prayer  to  have  his  fate  re- 
versed, he  saw  an  alteration  in  the  Phantom's  hood  and  dress. 
It  shrunk,  collapsed,  and  dwindled  down  into  a  bedpost. 

Yes !  and  the  bedpost  was  his  own.  The  bed  was  his  own, 
the  room  was  his  own.  Best  and  happiest  of  all,  the  Time  be- 
fore him  was  his  own,  to  make  amends  in ! 

"  I  will  live  in  the  Past,  the  Present,  and  the  Future ! " 
Scrooge  repeated,  as  he  scrambled  out  of  bed.  "  The  Spirits 
of  all  Three  shall  strive  witliin  me.  O  Jacob  Marley  !  Heaven 
and  the  Christmas  Time  be  praised  for  this !  I  say  it  on  my 
knees,  old  Jacob  ;  on  my  knees !  " 

He  was  so  fluttered  and  so  glowing  with  his  good  inten- 
tions, that  his  broken  voice  would  scarcely  answer  to  his  call. 
He  had  been  sobbing  violently  in  his  conflict  with  the  Spirit, 
and  his  face  was  wet  with  tears. 

His  hands  werQ  busy  with  his  garments  all  this  time ;  turn- 
ing them  inside  out,  putting  them  on  upside  down,  tearing 
them,  mislaying  them,  making  them  parties  to  every  kind  of 
extravagance. 

"  I  don't  know  what  to  do !  "  cried  Scrooge,  laughing  and 
crying  in  the  same  breath,  and  making  a  perfect  Laocoon  of 
himself  with  his  stockings.  "  I  am  as  light  as  a  feather,  I  am 
as  happy  as  an  angel,  I  am  as  merry  as  a  schoolboy.  I  am 
as  giddy  as  a  drunken  man.  A  Merry  Christmas  to  every- 
body !  A  Happy  New  Year  to  all  the  world !  Hallo  here ; 
Whoop!  Hallo!" 

He  had  frisked  into  the  sitting-room,  and  was  now  stand- 
ing there,  perfectly  winded. 

"  There  's  the  saucepan  that  the  gruel  was  in ! "  cried 
Scrooge,  starting  off  again,  and  going  round  the  fireplace. 
"There  's  the  door  by  which  the  Ghost  of  Jacob  Marley  en- 
tered! There's  the  corner  where  the  Ghost  of  Christmas  Pres- 
ent sat !  There's  the  window  where  I  saw  the  wandering  Spir- 
its I  It 's  all  right,  it 's  all  true,  it  all  happened.  Ha,  ha,  ha !  " 


256  ORAL  RE.VDING 

"  I  don't  know  what  day  of  the  month  it  is,"  said  Scrooge. 
'*  I  don't  know  how  lung  1  have  been  among  tlie  Spirits.  I 
don't  know  anything.  1 'm  quite  a  h;iby.  Nevei- mind.  I  don't 
care.  I  d  rather  he  a  b:iby.   Hallo  !   Whoop  !   Hallo  here  !  " 

He  was  ciiecked  in  his  transports  by  the  churches  ringing  out 
the  lustiest  peals  he  had  ever  heard.  Clash,  clang,  hammer: 
ding,  dong,  bell !  Bell,  dong,  ding  ;  hammer,  clung,  clash !  Oh, 
glorious,  glorious ! 

Ruiming  to  the  window,  he  opened  it,  and  put  out  his  head. 
No  fog,  no  mist ;  clear,  bright,  jovial,  stirring,  cold ;  cold, 
piping  for  the  blood  to  dance  to  ;  golden  sunlight ;  heavenly 
sky  ;  sweet  fresh  air  ;  merry  bells.  Oh,  glorious  !  Glorious ! 

"  What 's  to-day  ?  "  cried  Scrooge,  calling  downward  to  a 
boy  in  Sunday  clothes,  who  perhaps  had  loitered  in  to  look 
about  him. 

"  Eh  ?  "  returned  the  boy,  with  all  his  might  of  wonder. 

"  What 's  to-day,  my  fine  fellow  ?  "  said  Scrooge. 

"  To-day  !  "  replied  the  boy.  "  Why,  Christmas  Day." 

"  It 's  Christmas  Day !  "  said  Scrooge  to  liimself.  "  1 
have  n't  missed  it.  The  Spirits  have  done  it  all  in  one  night. 
They  can  do  anything  they  like.  Of  course  they  can.  Of 
course  they  can.  Hallo,  my  fine  fellow !  " 

"  Hallo  !  "  returned  the  boy. 

"  Do  you  know  the  poulterer's,  in  the  next  street  but  one, 
at  the  corner  ?  "  Scrooge  inquired. 

"  I  should  hope  I  did,"  replied  the  lad. 

"  An  intelligent  boy !  "  said  Scrooge.  "  A  remarkable  boy  ; 
Do  you  know  whether  they  've  sold  the  prize  Turkey  that 
was  hanging  up  there  ?  —  not  the  little  prize  Turkey,  the  big 
one  ?  " 

"  What,  the  one  as  big  as  me  ?  "  returned  the  boy. 

"What  a  delightful  boy  !  "  said  Scrooge.  *'  It's  a  pleasure 
to  talk  to  him.  Yes,  my  buck  !  " 

*'  It 's  hanging  there  now,"  replied  the  boy. 

"  Is  it?  "  said  Scrooge.  "  Go  and  buy  it." 

"  Walk-ER !  "  exclaimed  the  boy. 

"  No,  no,"  said  Scrooge,  "  I  am  in  earnest.  Go  and  buy  it, 
and  tell  'em  to  bring  it  here,  that  I  may  give  them  the  direc- 
tions where  to  take  it.  Come  back  with  the  man,  and  I  '11  give 


THE  MUSIC  OF  SPEECH  257 

you  a  shilling.  Come  back  with  him  in  less  than  five  minutes, 
and  I  '11  give  you  half  a  crown!  " 

The  boy  was  off  like  a  shot.  He  must  have  had  a  steady 
hand  at  a  trigger  who  could  have  got  a  shot  off  half  so  fast. 

"I'll  send  it  to  Bob  Ciatchit's,"  whispered  Scrooge,  rub- 
bing his  hands,  and  splitting  with  a  laugh.   "  He  shan't  know 
who  sends  it.  It 's  twice  the  size  of  Tiny  Tim.  Joe  Miller 
never  made  such  a  joke  as  sending  it  to  Bob's  will  be  !  " 
Dickens :  A  Christmas  Carol,  stave  v. 

5.  Ye  crags  and  peaks,  I  'ra  with  you  once  again ! 
I  hold  to  you  the  hands  you  first  beheld, 

To  show  they  still  are  free.  Methinks  I  hear 

A  spirit  in  your  echoes  answer  me. 

And  bid  your  tenant  welcome  home  again ! 

Hail !   Hail !  Oh  sacred  forms,  how  proud  you  look ! 

How  high  you  lift  your  heads  into  the  sky  I 

How  huge  you  are  !  how  mighty,  and  how  free ! 

Ye  are  the  things  that  tower,  that  shine,  —  whose  smile 

Makes  glad,  whose  frown  is  terrible,  whose  forms, 

Robed  or  unrobed,  do  all  the  impress  wear 

Of  awe  divine,  whose  subject  never  kneels 

In  mockery,  because  it  is  your  boast 

To  keep  him  free !  Ye  guards  of  liberty, 

I  'm  with  you  once  again !   I  call  to  you 

With  all  my  voice !  I  hold  my  hands  to  you 

To  show  they  still  are  free  ! 

Knowles :    William  Tell,  i,  ii.'' 

6.  King.  But,  sirrah,  henceforth 
Let  me  not  hear  you  speak  of  Mortimer. 

Send  me  your  prisoners  with  the  speediest  means, 

Or  you  shall  hear  in  such  a  kind  from  me 

As  will  displease  you.     My  Lord  Northumberland, 

We  license  your  departure  with  your  son. 

Send  us  your  prisoners,  or  you  '11  hear  of  it. 

\^Exeunt  King  Henry,  Blunt,  and  train. 

^  Used  with  the  kind  permission  of  the  publishers,  E.  P.  Dutton  and  Com* 
pany. 


2j8  oral  reading 

Hotspur,  An  if  the  devil  come  and  roar  for  them, 
I  will  not  send  them.     I  will  after  straight 
And  tell  him  so  ;  for  I  will  ease  my  heart, 
Albeit  I  make  a  hazard  of  my  head. 

Northxtmbcrlaiul.     What,  drunk  with  choler?    Stay  and 
pause  awhile. 
Here  conies  your  uncle. 

Re-enter  Worcester 

Uotspur.  Speak  of  Mortimer! 

'  Zounds,  I  will  speak  of  him  ;  and  let  my  soul 
Want  mercy,  if  I  do  not  join  with  him. 
Yea,  on  his  part  I  '11  empty  all  these  veins, 
And  shed  my  dear  blood  drop  by  drop  in  the  dust, 
But  I  will  lift  the  down-trod  Mortimer 
As  high  in  the  air  as  this  unthankful  king, 
As  this  ingrate  and  canker'd  Bolingbroke. 

Northximherland.  Brother,  the  king  hath  made  your  nephew 
mad. 

Worcester.  Who  struck  this  heat  up  after  I  was  gone? 

Hotspur.  He  will,  forsooth,  have  all  my  prisoners ; 
And  when  I  urg'd  the  ransom  once  again 
Of  my  wife's  brother,  then  his  cheek  look'd  pale, 
And  on  my  face  he  turn'd  an  eye  of  death, 
Trembling  even  at  the  name  of  Mortimer. 

Worcester.  I  cannot  blame  him  ;  was  he  not  proclaim'd 
By  Richard  that  dead  is,  the  next  of  blood  ? 

Northumberland.  He  was  ;  I  heard  the  proclamation. 
And  then  it  was  when  the  unhappy  king,  — 
^^Tiose  wrongs  in  us  God  pardon !  —  did  set  forth 
Upon  his  Irish  expedition ; 
From  whence  he  intercepted  did  return 
To  be  depos'd  and  shortly  murthered. 

Worcester.  Peace,  cousin,  say  no  more,. 

A.nd  now  I  will  unclasp  a  secret  book. 
And  to  your  quick-conceiving  discontents 
I  '11  read  you  matter  deep  and  dangerous, 
As  full  of  peril  and  adventurous  spirit 


THE  MUSIC  OF  SPEECH  259 

Ab  to  o'er-walk  a  current  roaring  loud 
On  the  unsteadfast  footing  of  a  spear. 

Hotspur.  If  he  fall  in,  good  night!  or  sink  or  swim. 
Send  Danger  from  the  east  unto  the  west, 
So  Honour  cross  it  from  the  north  to  south, 
And  let  them  grapple ;  O,  the  blood  more  stirs 
To  rouse  a  lion  than  to  start  a  hare  ! 

By  heaven,  methinks  it  were  an  easy  leap, 

To  pluck  bright  honour  from  the  pale-fac'd  moon, 

Or  dive  into  tiie  bottom  of  the  deep, 

Where  fathom-line  could  never  touch  the  ground, 

And  pluck  up  drowned  Honour  by  the  locks  ; 

So  he  that  doth  redeem  her  thence  might  wear 

Without  coi'rival  all  her  dignities  ; 

But  out  upon  this  half-fac'd  fellowship  ! 

Worcester.  Good  cousin,  give  me  audience  for  a  while., 

Hotspur.  I  cry  you  mercy. 

Worcester  Those  same  noble  Scots 

That  are  your  prisoners,  — 

Hotspur.  I  '11  keej)  them  all ! 

By  heaven,  he  shall  not  have  a  Scot  of  them  ; 
No,  if  a  Scot  would  save  his  soul,  he  shall  not ! 
I  '11  keep  them,  by  this  hand. 

Worcester.  You  start  away 

And  lend  no  ear  unto  my  purposes. 
Those  prisoners  you  shall  keep. 

Hotspur.  Nay,  I  will ;  that 's  flat. 

He  said  he  would  not  ransom  Mortimer, 
Forbade  my  tongue  to  speak  of  Mortimer ; 
But  I  will  find  him  when  he  lies  asleep. 
And  in  his  ear  I  '11  holla  "  Mortimer !  " 
Nay,  I  '11  have  a  starling  shall  be  taught  to  speak 
Nothing  but  "Mortimer,"  and  give  it  him, 
To  keep  his  ajiger  still  in  motion. 

Shakespeare :  Henry  IV,  Part  I,  I,  iii. 


SCO  ORAL  READING 

3.  Calm  and  serene  moods 
7.  I  thank  God  for  my  liapj^y  dreams,  as  I  do  for  mj'  jrood 
rest;  for  there  is  a  satisfaction  in  them  unto  reasonable  de- 
sires, and  such  as  can  be  content  with  a  fit  of  happiness : 
and  surely  it  is  not  a  melancholy  conceit  to  think  we  are  all 
asleep  in  this  World,  and  that  the  conceits  of  this  life  are  as 
mere  dreams  to  those  of  the  next ;  as  the  Phantasms  of  the 
night,  to  the  conceits  of  the  day.  There  is  an  equal  delusion 
in  both,  and  the  one  doth  but  seem  to  be  the  emblem  or  picture 
of  the  other :  we  are  somevvliat  more  than  ourselves  in  our 
sleeps,  and  the  slumber  of  the  body  seems  to  be  but  the  wak- 
ing of  the  soul.  It  is  the  ligation  of  sense,  but  the  liberty  of 
reason  ;  and  our  waking  conceptions  do  not  match  the  Fancies 
of  our  sleeps.  ...  I  am  no  way  facetious,  nor  disposed  for 
the  mirth  and  galliardize  of  company  ;  yet  in  one  dream  I  can 
compose  a  whole  Comedy,  behold  the  action,  apprehend  the 
jests,  and  laugh  myself  awake  at  the  conceits  thereof.  Were 
my  memory  as  faithful  as  my  reason  is  then  fruitful,  I  would 
never  study  but  in  my  dreams ;  and  this  time  also  would  I 
choose  for  my  devotions  :  but  our  grosser  memories  have  then 
so  little  hold  of  our  abstracted  understandings,  that  they  forget 
the  story,  and  can  only  relate  to  our  awaked  souls,  a  confuse(f 

and  broken  tale  of  that  that  hath  passed 

We  term  sleep  a  death  ;  and  yet  it  is  waking  that  kills  us, 
and  destroys  those  spirits  that  are  the  house  of  life.  'T  is  in- 
deed a  part  of  life  that  best  expresseth  death ;  for  every  man 
truely  lives,  so  long  as  he  acts  his  nature,  or  some  way  makes 
good  the  faculties  of  himself.  Themistocles,  therefore,  that 
slew  his  Soldier  in  his  sleep  was  a  merciful  Executioner : 
'tis  a  kind  of  punishment  the  mildness  of  no  laws  hath  in- 
vented :  I  wonder  the  fancy  of  Lucan  and  Seneca  did  not 
discover  it.  It  is  that  death  by  which  we  may  be  literally  said 
to  die  daily  ;  a  death  which  Adam  died  before  his  mortality; 
a  death  whereby  we  live  a  middle  and  moderating  point  be- 
tween life  and  death  :  in  fine,  so  like  death,  I  dare  not  trust 
it  without  my  prayers,  and  an  half  adieu  unto  the  World,  and 
take  my  farewell  in  a  Colloquy  with  God. 

Browne  :  Religlo  Medici. 


THE  MUSIC  OF  SPEECH  261 

8.  We  are  the  music  makers, 

And  we  are  the  dreamers  of  dreams, 
Wandering  by  lone  sea-breakers, 

And  sitting  by  desolate  streams  ;  — 
World-losers  and  world-forsakers, 

On  whom  the  pale  moon  gleams : 
Yet  we  are  the  movers  and  shakers 

Of  the  world  for  ever,  it  seems. 

With  wonderful  deathless  ditties 
We  build  up  the  world's  great  cities. 

And  out  of  a  fabulous  story 

We  fashion  an  empire's  gloiy : 
One  man  with  a  dream,  at  pleasure. 

Shall  go  forth  and  conquer  a  crown  *, 
And  three  with  a  new  song's  measure 

Can  trample  a  kingdom  down. 

We,  in  the  ages  lying 

In  the  buried  past  of  the  earth. 
Built  Nineveh  with  our  sighing, 

And  Babel  itself  in  our  mirth  ; 
And  o'erthrew  them  with  prophesying 

To  the  old  of  the  new  world's  worth  ; 
For  each  age  is  a  dream  that  is  dying, 

Or  one  that  is  coming  to  birth. 

O'Shaughnessy :  Ode. 

9.  Enter  Lorenzo  and  Jessica 
Lorenzo.  My  friend  Stephano,  signify,  I  pray  you. 

Within  the  house,  your  mistress  is  at  hand  ; 

And  bring  your  music  forth  into  the  air.        {Exit  Stephano^ 

How  sweet  the  moonlight  sleeps  upon  this  bank! 

Here  will  we  sit,  and  let  the  sounds  of  music 

Creep  in  our  ears.    Soft  stillness  and  the  night 

Become  the  touches  of  sweet  harmony. 

Sit,  Jessica.  Look,  how  the  floor  of  heaven 

Is  thick  inlaid  with  patines  of  bright  gold. 

There  's  not  the  smallest  orb  which  thou  behold'st 


262  ORAL  READING 

But  in  Ills  motion  like  an  angel  sings, 
S4ill  (iiiiriiig  to  the  young-oyed  cherubins; 
Sucli  harmony  is  in  immortal  souls  ; 
But  whilst  this  iniuldy  vesture  of  decay 
Doth  grossly  close  it  in,  we  cannot  hear  it.  — 

Jessica.  I  am  never  merry  when  I  hear  sweet  muslo 
Lorenzo.  The  reason  is,  your  spirits  are  attentive ; 
For  do  but  note  a  wild  and  wanton  herd, 
Or  race  of  youthful  and  unhandled  colts, 
Fetching  mad  bounds,  bellowing  and  neighing  loud, 
"Which  is  the  hot  condition  of  their  blood, 
If  they  but  hear  perchance  a  trumpet  sound. 
Or  any  air  of  music  touch  their  ears, 
You  shall  perceive  them  make  a  mutual  stand, 
Ti\eir  savage  eyes  turn'd  to  a  modest  gaze, 
By  the  sweet  power  of  music ;  therefore  the  poet 
Did  feign  that  Orpheus  drew  trees,  stones,  and  floods; 
Since  nought  so  stockish,  hard,  and  full  of  rage, 
But  music  for  the  time  doth  cliange  his  nature. 
The  man  that  hath  no  nmsic  in  himself, 
Nor  is  not  mov'd  with  concord  of  sweet  sounds, 
Is  fit  for  treasons,  stratagems,  and  spoils ; 
The  motions  of  his  spirit  are  dull  as  night, 
And  his  affections  dark  as  Erebus. 
Let  no  such  man  be  trusted.  Mark  the  music. 

Shakespeare :  Merchant  of  Venice,  v,  i. 

10.  Once  upon  a  time,  through  a  strange  country,  there  rode 
some  goodly  knights,  and  their  path  lay  by  a  deep  wood, 
where  tangled  briars  grew  very  thick  and  strong,  and  torf 
the  flesh  of  them  that  lost  their  way  therein.  And  the  leave; 
of  the  trees  that  grew  in  the  wood  were  very  dark  and  thick^ 
so  that  no  ray  of  light  came  through  the  branches  to  Lighten 
the  gloom  and  sadness. 

And,  as  they  passed  by  that  dark  wood,  one  knight  of  those 
that  rode,  missing  his  comrades,  wandered  far  away,  and  re- 
turned to  them  no  more ;  and  they,  sorely  grieving,  rode  on 
without  him,  mourning  him  as  one  dead. 


THE  MUSIC  OF  SPEECH  263 

Now,  when  they  reached  the  fair  castle  toward  which  they 
had  been  journeying,  they  stayed  there  many  days,  and  made 
merry ;  and  one  night,  as  they  sat  in  cheerful  ease  around  the 
logs  that  burned  in  the  great  hall,  and  drank  a  loving  meas- 
ure, there  came  the  comrade  they  had  lost,  and  greeted  them. 
His  clothes  were  ragged,  like  a  beggar's,  but  upon  his  face 
there  shone  a  great  radiance  of  deep  joy. 

And  they  questioned  him,  asking  him  what  had  befallen 
him :  and  he  told  them  how  in  the  dark  wood  he  had  lost  his 
way,  and  had  wandered  many  days  and  nights,  till,  torn  and 
bleeding,  he  had  lain  him  down  to  die. 

Then,  when  he  was  nigh  unto  death,  lo !  through  the  sav- 
age gloom  there  came  to  him  a  stately  maiden,  and  took  him 
by  the  hand  and  led  him  on  through  devious  paths,  unknown 
to  any  man,  until  upon  the  darkness  of  the  wood  there  dav/ned 
a  light  such  as  the  light  of  day  was  unto  but  as  a  little  lamp 
unto  the  sun;  and,  in  that  wondrous  light,  our  way-woi'n 
knight  saw  as  in  a  dream  a  vision  and  so  glorious,  so  fair  the 
vision  seemed,  that  of  his  bleeding  wounds  he  thought  no 
more,  but  stood  as  one  entranced,  whose  joy  is  deep  as  is  the 
sea,  whereof  no  man  can  tell  the  depth. 

And  the  vision  faded,  and  the  knight,  kneeling  upon  the 
ground,  thanked  the  good  saint  who  into  that  sad  wood  had 
strayed  liis  steps,  so  he  had  seen  the  vision  that  lay  there  hid. 

And  the  name  of  the  dark  forest  was  Sorrow ;  but  of  the 
vision  that  the  good  knight  saw  therein  we  may  not  speak  nor 
tell.  Jerome  :   Three  Me?i  in  a  Boat.^ 

4.   Wonder,  awe,  and  reverence 
11.         Mysterious  Night !  when  our  first  parent  knew 
Thee  from  report  divine,  and  heard  thy  name, 
Did  he  not  tremble  for  this  lovely  frame, 
This  glorious  canopy  of  light  and  blue  ? 
Yet,  'neath  a  curtain  of  translucent  dew, 

Bathed  in  the  rays  of  the  great  setting  flame, 
Hesperus,  with  tlie  host  of  heaven,  came. 
And  lo !  Creation  widen'd  in  man's  view. 

^  Used  with  the   kind  permission  of  the  publishers,   Henry   Holt  and 
Company. 


2G4  OR.VL  RE.VDING 

Who  coulJ  have  thought  such  darkness  lay  concealed 
^Vithin  thy  beams,  O  Sun !  or  wlio  could  find, 

AVliilst  tly  and  loaf  and  insect  stood  revealed, 

That  to  such  countless  orbs  thou  niad'st  us  blind ! 

"Why  do  we,  then,  siiun  death  with  anxious  strife  ? 

If  light  can  thus  deceive,  wherefore  not  life  ? 

Joseph  Blanco  White :  Night, 

"  And  he  buried  him  in  a  valley  in  the  land  of  Moab,  over  against  Beth- 
poor :  but  no  man  kuoweth  of  his  sepulchre  unto  this  day." 

Deut.  XXXIV,  6. 
By  Nebo's  lonely  mountain, 

On  this  side  Jordan's  wave, 
In  a  vale  in  the  land  of  Moab, 

There  lies  a  lonely  grave  ; 
And  no  man  dug  that  sepulcher, 

And  no  man  saw  it  e'er, 
For  the  angels  of  God  upturned  the  sod, 
And  laid  the  dead  man  there. 

That  was  the  grandest  funeral 

That  ever  passed  on  earth ; 
But  no  man  heard  the  trampling. 

Or  saw  the  train  go  forth  ; 
Noiselessly  as  the  daylight 

Comes  when  the  night  is  done, 
And  the  crimson  streak  on  ocean's  cheek 

Grows  into  the  great  sun,  — 

Noiselessly  as  the  springtime 

Her  crown  of  verdure  weaves, 
And  all  the  trees  on  all  the  hills 

Open  their  thousand  leaves,  — 
So,  without  sound  of  music, 

Or  voice  of  them  that  wept, 
Silently  down  from  the  mountain's  crown 

The  great  procession  swept. 

Perchance  the  bald  old  eagle, 
On  gray  Beth-peor's  height, 


THE  MUSIC  OF  SPEECH  265 

Out  of  his  rocky  eyrie, 

Looked  on  the  wondrous  sight. 
Perchance  the  lion  stalking 

Still  shuns  the  hallowed  spot ; 
For  beast  and  bird  have  seen  and  heaxd 

That  which  man  knoweth  not. 

But  when  the  warrior  dieth, 

His  comrades  in  the  war, 
With  arms  reversed  and  muffled  drum, 

Follow  his  funeral  cai*. 
They  show  the  banners  taken, 

They  tell  his  battles  won, 
And  after  him  lead  his  masterless  steed, 

While  peals  the  minute  gun. 

Amid  the  noblest  of  the  land 

Men  lay  the  sage  to  rest, 
And  give  the  bard  an  honored  place 

With  costly  marble  dressed, 
In  the  great  minster  transept, 

Where  lights  like  glories  fall. 
And  the  sweet  choir  sings,  and  the  organ  rings, 

Along  the  emblazoned  wall. 

This  was  the  bravest  warrior 

That  ever  buckled  sword ; 
This  the  most  gifted  poet 

That  ever  breathed  a  word ; 
And  never  earth's  philosopher 

Traced  with  his  golden  pen 
On  the  deathless  page  truths  half  so  sage 

As  he  wrote  down  for  men. 

And  had  he  not  high  honor,  — 

The  hillside  for  his  pall ; 
To  lie  in  state  while  angels  wait 

With  stars  for  tapers  tall ; 


«66  ORAL  RE.VDING 

And  the  dark  rock  pines,  like  tossing  plumeSi 

Over  his  bier  to  wave  ; 
And  God's  own  hand,  in  that  lonely  land, 

To  lay  him  in  the  gi'ave  ? 


O,  lonely  tonih  in  Moab's  land! 

O,  dark  Beth-peor's  hill ! 
Speak  to  these  curious  hearts  of  ours, 

And  teach  them  to  be  still. 
God  hath  His  mysteries  of  grace  — 

Ways  that  we  cannot  tell ; 
He  hides  them  deep,  like  the  secret  sleep 

Of  him  He  loved  so  well. 

Alexander :  The  Burial  of  Moses, 

5.  Pitch  intervals  and  melody 
13.     "  Courage  !  "  he  said,  and  pointed  toward  the  land, 
"  This  mounting  wave  will  roll  us  shoreward  soon.'* 
In  the  afternoon  they  came  unto  a  land 
In  which  it  seemed  always  afternoon. 
All  round  the  coast  the  languid  air  did  swoon, 
Breathing  like  one  that  hath  a  weary  di-eam. 
Full-faced  above  the  valley  stood  the  moon ; 
And,  like  a  downward  smoke,  the  slender  stream 
Along  the  cliff  to  fall  and  pause  and  fall  did  seem. 

A  land  of  streams !  some,  like  a  downward  smoke. 

Slow-dropping  veils  of  thinnest  lawn,  did  go ; 

And  some  thro'  wavering  lights  and  shadows  broke, 

Rolling  a  slumbrous  sheet  of  foam  below. 

They  saw  the  gleaming  river  seaward  flow 

From  the  inner  land  ;  far  off,  three  mountain-tops, 

Three  silent  pinnacles  of  aged  snow, 

Stood  sunset-flush'd ;  and,  dew'd  with  showery  drops, 

Up-clomb  the  shadowy  pine  above  the  woven  copse. 

The  charmed  sunset  linger'd  low  adown 

In  the  red  West :  thro'  mountain  clefts  the  dale 


THE  MUSIC   OF  SPEECH  267 

Was  seen  far  inland,  and  the  yellow  down 

Border'd  with  jDalm,  and  many  a  winding  vale 

And  meadow,  set  with  slender  galingale ; 

A  land  where  all  things  alway  seem'd  the  same! 

And  round  about  the  keel  with  faces  pale, 

Dark  faces  pale  against  that  rosy  flame, 

The  mild-eyed  melancholy  Lotos-eaters  came. 

Branches  they  bore  of  that  enchanted  stem, 
Laden  with  flower  and  fruit,  whereof  they  gave 
To  each,  but  whoso  did  receive  of  them 
And  taste,  to  him  the  gushing  of  the  wave 
Far  far  away  did  seem  to  mourn  and  rave 
On  alien  shores ;  and  if  his  fellow  spake, 
His  voice  was  thin,  as  voices  from  the  grave ; 
And  deejD-asleep  he  seem'd,  yet  all  awake, 
And  music  in  his  ears  his  beating  heart  did  make. 

They  sat  them  down  upon  the  yellow  sand. 
Between  the  sun  and  moon  upon  the  shore ; 
And  sweet  it  was  to  dream  of  Fatherland, 
Of  child,  and  wife,  and  slave ;  but  evermore 
Most  weary  seem'd  the  sea,  weary  the  oar, 
Weary  the  wandering  fields  of  barren  foam. 
Then  some  one  said,  "  We  will  return  no  more  ; " 
And  all  at  once  they  sang,  "  Our  island  home 
Is  far  beyond  the  wave ;  we  will  no  longer  roam." 

Tennyson :  The  Lotos-Eaters. 

14.  Oh,  what  is  abroad  in  the  marsh  and  the  terminal  sea  ? 
Somehow  my  soul  seems  suddenly  free 
Fi'om  the  weighing  of  fate  and  the  sad  discussion  of  sin, 
By  the  length  and  the  breadth  and  the  sweep  of  the  marshes 
of  Glynn. 

Ye  marshes,  how  candid  and  simple  and  nothing-witholding 

and  free 
Ye  publish  yourselves  to  the  sky  and  offer  yourselves  to  the 

sea! 


«C8  ORAL  11E.VJ)ING 

Tolerant  plains,  that  suffer  the  sea  and  the  rains  and  the  sun, 
Ye  spread  and  span  like  the  catholic  man  who  hath  mightily 

won 
God  out  of  knowledge  and  good  out  of  infinite  pain 
And  sight  out  of  blindness  and  purity  out  of  a  stain. 

As  the  marsh-hen  secretly  builds  on  the  watery  sod, 
Behold  I  will  build  nie  a  nest  on  the  greatness  of  God: 
I  will  fly  in  the  greatness  of  God  as  the  marsh-hen  flies 
In  the  freedom  that  fills  all  the  space  'twixt  the  marsh  and 

the  skies : 
By  so  many  roots  as  the  marsh-grass  sends  in  the  sod 
I  will  heartily  lay  me  a-hold  on  the  greatness  of  God : 
Oh,  like  to  the  greatness  of  God  is  the  greatness  within 
The  range  of  the  marshes,  the  liberal  marshes  of  Glynn. 

And  the  sea  lends  large,  as  the  marsh :  lo,  out  of  his  plenty 
the  sea 

Pours  fast :  full  soon  the  time  of  the  flood-tide  must  be : 

Look  how  the  grace  of  the  sea  doth  go 

About  and  about  through  the  intricate  channels  that  flow 
Here  and  there, 

Everywhere, 

Till  his  waters  have  flooded  the  uttermost  creeks  and  the  low- 
lying  lanes, 

And  the  marsh  is  meshed  with  a  million  veins, 

That  like  as  with  rosy  and  silvery  essences  flow 
In  the  rose-and-silver  evening  glow. 
Farewell,  my  lord  Sun  ! 

The  creeks  overflow  :  a  thousand  rivulets  run 

'Twixt  the  roots  of  the  sod ;  the  blades  of  the  marsh-grass 
stir ; 

Passeth  a  hurrying  sound  of  wings  that  westward  whirr ; 

Passeth,  and  all  is  still  ;  and  the  currents  cease  to  run ; 

And  the  sea  and  the  marsh  are  one. 

How  still  the  plains  of  the  waters  be ! 
The  tide  is  in  his  ecstasy. 
The  tide  is  at  his  highest  height : 
And  it  is  night. 


THE   MUSIC   OF   SPEECH  269 

And  now  from  the  Vast  of  the  Lord  will  the  waters  of  sleep 

Roll  in  on  the  souls  of  men, 

But  who  will  reveal  to  our  waking  ken 

The  forms  that  swim  and  the  shajjes  that  creep 

Under  the  waters  of  sleep  ? 
And  I  would  I  could  know  what  swimmeth  below  when  the 

tide  comes  in 
On  the  length  and  the  breadth  of  the  marvellous  marshes  of 

Glynn. 

Lanier :  The  Marshes  of  Glynn.^ 

15.  My  soul  to-day 

Is  far  away, 
Sailing  the  Vesuvian  Bay ; 

My  winged  boat, 

A  bird  afloat, 
Swims  round  the  purple  peaks  remote :  — 

Round  purple  peaks 

It  sails,  and  seeks 
Blue  inlets  and  their  crystal  creeks, 

Where  high  rocks  throw. 

Through  deeps  below, 
A  duplicated  golden  glow. 

Far,  vague,  and  dim. 

The  mountains  swim : 
While  on  Vesuvius'  misty  brim. 

With  outstretched  hands, 

The  gray  smoke  stands, 
O'erlooking  the  volcanic  lands. 

Here  Ischia  smiles 

O'er  liquid  miles  ; 
And  yonder,  bluest  of  the  isles, 

Calm  Capri  waits, 

Her  sapphire  gates 
Beguiling  to  her  bright  estates. 

1  From  The  Poems  of  Sidnpp  Lanier,  Used  with  the  kind  permission  of  tha 
publishers,  Charles  Scribnev's  ff  ons. 


270  ORAL  RE.VDING 

I  heed  not  if 

My  rippling  skifE 
Float  swift  or  slow  from  cliff  to  cliff  ;^ 

AVith  dreamful  eyes 

My  spirit  lies 
Under  the  walls  of  Paradise. 

Under  the  walls 

Where  swells  and  falls 
The  Bay's  deep  breast  at  intervals, 

At  peace  I  lie, 

Blown  softly  by, 
A  cloud  upon  this  liquid  sky. 

The  day,  so  mild, 

Is  Heaven's  own  child, 
With  Earth  and  Ocean  reconciled ;  — 

The  airs  I  feel 

Around  me  steal 
Are  murmuring  to  the  murmuring  keeL 

Over  the  rail 

My  hand  I  trail 
Within  the  shadow  of  the  sail, 

A  joy  intense. 

The  cooling  sense 
Glides  down  my  drowsy  indolence. 

With  dreamful  eyes 

]My  spirit  lies 
Where  Summer  sings  and  never  dies,  — 

O'erveiled  with  vines. 

She  glows  and  shines 
Among  her  future  oil  and  wines. 

Her  children,  hid 

The  cliffs  amid, 
Are  gamboling  with  the  gamboling  kid  J 

Or  down  the  walls. 

With  tipsy  calls, 
Laugh  on  the  rocks  like  waterfalls. 


THE  MUSIC   OF   SPEECH  271 

The  fisher's  child, 

With  tresses  wild, 
Unto  the  smooth,  bright  sand  beguiled, 

With  glowing  lips 

Sings  as  she  skips. 
Or  gazes  at  the  far-off  ships. 

Yon  deep  bark  goes 

Where  traffic  blows, 
From  lands  of  sun  to  lands  of  snows  ;  — 

This  happier  one, 

Its  course  is  run 
From  lands  of  snow  to  lands  of  sun. 

Oh,  happy  ship, 

To  rise  and  dip, 
With  the  blue  crystal  at  your  lip ! 

Oh,  happy  crew, 

My  heart  with  you 
Sails,  and  sails,  and  sings  anew ! 

No  more,  no  more 

The  worldly  shore 
Upbraids  me  with  its  loud  uproar! 

With  dreamful  eyes 

My  spirit  lies 
Under  the  walls  of  Paradise. 

Read :  Drifting ^ 

6.  Inflvsnce  of  emotion  on  inflection 
16.    Men  told  me.  Lord,  it  was  a  vale  of  tears 

Where  Thou  hadst  placed  me,  wickedness  and  woe 
My  twain  companions  whereso  I  might  go ; 
That  I  through  ten  and  three-score  weary  years 
Should  stumble  on,  beset  by  pains  and  fears. 
Fierce  conflict  round  me,  passions  hot  within. 
Enjoyment  brief  and  fatal  but  in  sin. 

^  Used  with  the  kind  permission  of  the  publishers,  J.  B.  Lippincott  Com" 
pany. 


272  ORAL  HEADING 

When  all  was  ended  then  should  I  demand 
Full  compensation  from  Thine  austere  hand ; 
For,  't  is  Thy  jileasure,  all  teir.ptation  past, 
To  be  not  just  but  generous  at  last. 

Lord,  here  am  I,  my  three-score  years  and  ten 

All  counted  to  the  full ;  I  've  fought  Thy  fight, 

Crossed  Thy  dark  valleys,  scaled  Thy  rocks'  harsh  height^ 

Borne  all  Thy  burdens  Thou  dost  lay  on  men 

With  hand  unsparing,  three-score  years  and  ten. 

Before  Thee  now  I  make  my  claim,  O  Lord ! 

What  shall  I  pray  Thee  as  a  meet  reward  ? 

I  ask  for  nothing.  Let  the  balance  fall ! 

All  that  I  am  or  know  or  may  confess 

But  swells  the  weight  of  mine  indebtedness ; 

Burdens  and  sorrows  stand  transfigured  all ; 

Thy  hand's  rude  buffet  turns  to  a  caress, 

For  Love,  with  all  the  rest.  Thou  gavest  me  heve. 

And  Love  is  Heaven's  very  atmosphere. 

Lo !  I  have  dwelt  with  Thee,  Lord.  Let  me  die. 

I  could  no  more  through  all  Eternity. 

David  Starr  Jordan :  Men  Told  Me,  Lord} 

17.  Beautiful  was  the  night.  Behind  the  black  wall  of  the  forest, 
Tipping  its  summit  with  silver,  arose  the  moon.  On  the  river 
Fell  here  and  there  through  the  branches  a  tremulous  gleam 

of  the  moonlight, 
Like  the  sweet  thoughts  of  love  on  a  darkened  and  devious 

spirit. 
Nearer  and  round  about  her,  the  manifold  flowers  of  the 

garden 
Poured  out  their  souls  in  odors,  that  were  their  prayers  and 

confessions 
Unto  the  night,  as  it  went  its  way,  like  a  silent  Carthusian. 
Fuller  of  fragrance  than  they,  and  as  heavy  with  shadows 

and  night-dews. 
Hung  the  heart  of  the  maiden.  The  calm  and  the  magical 

moonlight 

-  Used  with  the  kind  permission  of  the  aatbcr* 


THE  MUSIC   OF  SPEECH  273 

Seemed  to  inundate  her  soul  with  indefinable  longings, 

As,  through  the  garden  gate,  and  beneath  the  shade  of  the 

oak-trees. 
Passed  she  along  the  path  to  the  edge  of  the  measureless 

prairie. 
Silent  it  lay,  with  a  silverj  haze  upon  it,  and  fire-flies 
Gleaming  and  floating  away  in  mingled  and  infinite  numbers. 
Over  her  head  the  stars,  the  thoughts  of  God  in  the  heavens, 
Shone  on  the  eyes  of  man,  who  had  ceased  to  marvel  and 

worship. 
Save  when  a  blazing  comet  was  seen  on  the  walls  of  that 

temple. 
As  if  a  hand  had  appeared  and  written  upon  them,  "  Uphar- 

sin." 
And  the  soul  of  the  maiden,  between  the  stars  and  the  fire- 
flies. 
Wandered  alone,  and  she  cried,  "  O  Gabriel !  O  my  beloved  ! 
Art  thou  so  near  unto  me,  and  yet  I  cannot  behold  thee  ? 
Art  thou  so  near  unto  me,  and  yet  thy  voice  does  not  reach 

me? 
Ah !  how  often  thy  feet  have  trod  this  path  to  the  prairie ! 
Ah!  how  often  thine   eyes  have  looked  on  the  woodlands 

around  me ! 
Ah !  how  often  beneath  this  oak,  returning  from  labor. 
Thou  hast  lain  down  to  rest,  and  to  dream  of  me  in  thy 

slumbers ! 
When  shall  these  eyes  behold,  these  arms  be  folded  about 

thee  ?  " 
Loud    and  sudden  and  near   the   note    of  a  whippoorwill 

sounded 
Like  a  flute  in  the  woods ;  and  anon,  through  the  neighbor- 
ing thickets, 
Farther  and  farther  away  it  floated  and  dropped  into  silence. 
"  Patience !  "  whispered  the  oaks  from  oracular  caverns  of 

darkness ; 
And,  from  the  moonlit  meadow,  a  sigh  responded,  "  To-mor* 

row ! " 

Longfellow :  Evangeline. 


274  ORAL  RE.VDING 

18.  Is  there  for  honest  poverty- 

Thai  hings  his  head,  an'  a'  that? 

The  coward  slave,  we  pass  hun  by  — ' 
We  dare  be  })oor  for  a'  that ! 

For  a'  that,  an'  a'  that, 

Our  toils  obscure,  an'  a'  that, 

The  rank  is  but  the  guinea's  stamp, 
The  man  's  the  gowd  ^  for  a'  that. 

What  though  on  hamely  fare  we  dine, 

Wear  hoddin  grey,"^  an'  a'  that  ? 
Gie  fools  their  silks,  and  knaves  their  wine  — » 

A  man  's  a  man  for  a'  that. 
For  a'  that,  an'  a'  that. 

Their  tinsel  show,  an'  a'  that, 
The  honest  man,  tho'  e'er  sae  poor, 

Is  king  o'  men  for  a'  that. 

Ye  see  yon  birkie  *  ca'd  "  a  lord," 

Wha  struts,  an'  stares,  an'  a'  that? 
Tho'  hundreds  worship  at  his  word, 

He  's  but  a  coof  *  for  a'  that. 
For  a'  that,  an'  a'  that, 

His  ribband,  star,  an'  a'  that, 
The  man  o'  independent  mind, 

He  looks  an'  laughs  at  a'  that. 

A  prince  can  mak  a  belted  knight, 

A  marquis,  duke,  an'  a'  that ! 
But  an  honest  man  's  aboon  his  might  — 

Guid  faith,  he  mauna  fa'  that !  ^ 
For  a'  that,  an'  a'  that. 

Their  dignities,  an'  a'  that. 
The  pith  o'  sense  an'  pride  o'  worth 

Are  higher  rank  than  a'  that. 

1  Gold.       2  Coarse  gray  woolen.       «  A  conceited  fellow.       *  A  dullard. 
6  "  The  power  of  making  an  honest  m.an,  as  a  belted  knight  is  made,  is 
a  power  no  kini^  can  be  allowed  to  claim." 


THE  MUSIC   OF  SPEECH  275 

Then  let  us  pray  that  come  it  may 

(As  come  it  will  for  a'  that) 
That  sense  and  worth  o'er  a'  the  earth 

Shall  bear  the  gree  ^  an'  a'  that  I 
For  a'  that,  an'  a'  that, 

It 's  comln'  yet  for  a'  that, 
That  man  to  man  the  world  o'er 

Shall  brithers  ^  be  for  a'  that. 

Burns :  For  A'  That  and  A'  That. 

7.  For  general  reading 
THE  LEGEND  BEAUTIFUL 

(From  Tales  of  a  Wayside  Inn) 
Henry  W.  Longfellow 

19.  "  Hadst  thou  stayed,  I  must  have  fled !  '* 

That  is  what  the  Vision  said. 

In  his  chamber  all  alone, 
Kneeling  on  the  floor  of  stone, 
Prayed  the  Monk  in  deep  contrition 
For  his  sins  of  indecision, 
Prayed  for  greater  self-denial 
In  temptation  and  in  trial ; 
It  was  noonday  by  the  dial, 
And  the  Monk  was  all  alone. 

Suddenly,  as  if  it  lightened. 
An  unwonted  splendor  brightened 
All  within  him  and  without  him 
In  that  narrow  cell  of  stone ; 
And  he  saw  the  Blessed  Vision 
Of  our  Lord,  with  light  Elysian 
Like  a  vesture  wrapped  about  Him, 
Like  a  garment  round  Him  thrown. 

Not  as  crucified  and  slain, 
Not  in  agonies  of  pain, 

'  Have  the  first  place.  *  Brother*. 


276  OR.VL  RE.VDING 

Not  with  bleeding  hands  and  feet, 
Did  the  Monk  his  Master  see ; 
But  as  in  the  village  street, 
In  the  house  or  harvest-field, 
Halt  and  lame  and  blind  He  healed, 
When  He  walked  in  Galilee. 

In  an  attitude  imploring, 

Hands  upon  his  bosom  crossed, 

Wondering,  worshipping,  adoring. 

Knelt  the  Monk  in  rapture  lost. 

Lord,  he  thought,  in  lieaven  that  reignest. 

Who  am  I,  that  thus  Thou  deignest 

To  reveal  Thyself  to  me  ? 

AVho  am  I,  that  from  the  centre 

Of  Thy  glory  Thou  shouldst  enter 

This  poor  cell,  my  guest  to  be  ? 

Then  amid  his  exaltation, 
Loud  the  convent  bell  appalling, 
From  its  belfry  calling,  calling, 
Rang  through  court  and  corridor 
AVith  persistent  iteration 
He  had  never  heard  before. 
It  was  now  the  appointed  hoar 
When  alike  in  shine  or  shower. 
Winter's  cold  or  summer's  heat. 
To  the  convent  portals  came 
All  the  blind  and  halt  and  lame. 
All  the  beggars  of  the  street, 
For  their  daily  dole  of  food 
Dealt  them  by  the  brotherhood; 
And  their  almoner  was  he 
Who  upon  his  bended  knee. 
Wrapt  in  silent  ecstasy 
Of  divinest  self-surrender, 
Saw  the  Vision  and  the  Splendor. 

Deep  distress  and  hesitation 
Mingled  with  his  adoration  ; 


THE   MUSIC   OF  SPEECH  277 

Should  he  go  or  should  he  stay  ? 
Should  he  leave  the  poor  to  wait 
Hungry  at  the  convent  gate, 
Till  the  Vision  passed  away  ? 
Should  he  slight  his  radiant  guest, 
Slight  this  visitant  celestial, 
For  a  crowd  of  ragged,  bestial 
Beggars  at  the  convent  gate  ? 
Woukl  the  Vision  there  remain  ? 
Would  the  Vision  come  again  ? 
Then  a  voice  within  his  breast 
Whispered,  audible  and  clear 
As  if  to  the  outward  ear : 
"  Do  thy  duty  ;  that  is  best ; 
Leave  unto  thy  Lord  the  rest !  " 

Straightway  to  his  feet  he  started. 
And  with  longing  look  intent 
On  the  Blessed  Vision  bent, 
Slowly  from  his  cell  departed, 
Slowly  on  his  errand  went. 

At  the  gate  the  poor  were  waiting, 
Looking  through  the  iron  grating, 
With  that  terror  in  the  eye 
That  is  only  seen  in  those 
Who  amid  their  wants  and  woes 
Hear  the  sound  of  doors  that  close. 
And  of  feet  that  pass  them  by  ; 
Grown  familar  with  disfavor, 
Grown  familiar  with  the  savor 
Of  the  bread  by  which  men  die  ! 
But  to-day,  they  knew  not  why, 
Like  the  gate  of  Paradise 
Seemed  the  convent  gate  to  rise, 
Like  a  sacrament  divine 
Seemed  to  them  the  bread  and  wine. 
In  his  heart  the  Monk  was  praying, 
Thinking  of  the  homeless  poor, 


«78  ORAL  RE.VDING 

What  they  suffer  and  endure  ; 
AVhat  we  see  not,  what  we  see; 
Ami  the  inward  voice  was  saying: 
''  Whatsoever  tiling  thou  doest 
To  the  least  of  mine  and  lowest, 
That  thou  doest  unto  me  !  " 

Unto  me  !  but  had  the  Vision 
Come  to  him  in  beggar's  clothing, 
Come  a  mendicant  imploring, 
Would  he  then  have  knelt  adoring, 
Or  have  listened  with  derision, 
And  have  turned  away  with  loathing  ? 

Thus  his  conscience  put  the  question, 
Full  of  troublesome  suggestion, 
As  at  length,  with  harried  pace, 
Towards  his  cell  he  turned  his  face, 
And  beheld  the  convent  bright 
With  a  supernatural  light. 
Like  a  luminous  cloud  expanding 
Over  floor  and  wall  and  ceiling. 

But  he  paused  with  awe-struck  feeling 
At  the  threshold  of  his  door. 
For  the  Vision  still  was  standing 
As  he  left  it  thei-e  before. 
When  the  convent  bell  appalling. 
From  its  belfry  calling,  calling, 
Summoned  him  to  feed  the  poor. 
Through  the  long  hour  intervening 
It  had  waited  his  return, 
And  he  felt  his  bosom  burn, 
Comprehending  aU  the  meaning, 
When  the  Blessed  Vision  said, 
"  Hadst  thou  stayed,  I  must  have  fled ! 


PART  III 

EASE  AND  CORRECTNESS 


CHAPTER  X 

TECHNICAL    PRINCIPLES 

Mend  your  speech  a  little, 
Lest  you  may  mar  your  fortunes. 

(Shakespeaee  :  Lear,  t,  i.) 

42.  Training  the  physical  agents  of  speech 
The  preceding  chapters  have  dealt  with  those  phases  of 
vocal  expression  which  are  the  direct  result  of  thought  and 
feeling.  The  aim  so  far  has  been  to  show  that  the  prompt- 
ings of  the  inner  nature,  the  energies  of  mind  and  heart 
acting  upon  the  voice,  determine  the  speech  style  of  indi- 
viduals. Yet  expression  can  be  full  and  true  only  when  the 
bodily  agents  are  responsive  and  capable.  The  deaf  and 
dumb  person,  though  trained  to  speak  by  mechanical  meth- 
ods, never  attains  that  natural  utterance  possible  for  the 
individual  of  normal  jjhysical  endowments.  His  speech  at- 
tainments are  limited  by  his  inability  to  hear  his  own  voice 
or  the  voices  of  others.  In  common  with  all  arts,  speech 
involves  certain  mechanical  processes,  the  mastery  of  which 
is  a  prerequisite  to  simple,  free,  and  adequate  utterance. 
The  painter  must  first  learn  how  to  combine  and  lay  on 
colors  before  he  attempts  to  paint  pictures  for  public  exhi- 
bition ;  the  pianist  devotes  months  and  years  to  practice 
for  agility  and  responsiveness  of  fingers  and  hands  before 
he  is  able  to  command  his  instrument  in  the  service  of  his 
finest  purposes ;  and  only  by  dint  of  much  labor  does  the 
writer  gain  mastery  of  words  and  the  ability  to  express  his 
thoughts  easily,  accurately,  and  attractively.  All  have  some- 
thing to  express,  but,  until  the  means  of  expression  are 
under  control,  their  efforts  are  experimental  and  more  or 


283  ORAL  RE.VDING 

loss  nidiiuentary.  Skill  and  c£Eectivenes3  come  only  by 
practice  and  experience,  and  the  art  of  speech  is  no  excep- 
tion. Clear  and  beautiful  utterance,  like  clear  and  beauti- 
ful writing,  is  the  lesult  of  good  example  and  diligent  effort 
for  accuracy  and  Hneuess. 

Perhaps  the  failure  on  the  part  of  many  educated  people 
to  recognize  the  necessity  of  vocal  training  is  due,  partially 
at  least,  to  the  peculiar  nature  of  speech  itself.  Of  all 
forms  of  expression  it  seems  to  be  the  most  involuntary, 
the  most  spontaneous,  the  least  dependent  on  external 
means.  The  speaker  needs  no  instrument  of  any  sort  save 
those  agents  and  energies  which  are  a  part  of  himself.  And 
since  we  have  by  instinct  a  disposition  to  use  the  organs  of 
speech  for  purposes  of  communication,  we  have  assumed 
that,  like  the  winking  of  the  eye  or  the  beating  of  the 
heart,  speech  is  an  involuntary  act  and  requires  no  special 
attention.  "  If  you  have  something  to  say,  say  it  and  you 
will  say  it  well,"  is  a  familiar  admonition.  Indeed,  some 
good  people  have  an  idea  that  the  voice  is  incapable  of  be- 
ing improved  by  training,  and  can  no  more  be  altered  than 
one's  nose  or  the  color  of  one's  eyes.  A  teacher  of  experi- 
ence and  mature  years  once  remarked  to  the  author :  "  Why 
talk  about  the  speaking  voice  ?  You  can't  change  a  person's 
voice,  can  you  ?  "  But  the  brain,  too,  is  a  part  of  oneself, 
yet  no  one  questions  whether  it  can  be  trained  to  obey  the 
will.  As  the  brain  is  strengthened  by  exercise,  and  the  fin- 
gers of  the  musician  made  nimble  by  practice,  so  the  voice, 
and  all  parts  of  the  organism  concerned  in  speech,  may  be 
improved  and  trained  to  act  with  a  readiness  and  exactness 
no  less  remarkable  than  is  the  ability  of  the  mind  to  hold 
itseK  to  the  solution  of  a  problem  in  mathematics,  or  the 
response  of  the  fingers  to  the  will  of  the  musician. 

The  child,  by  observation,  imitation,  and  many  halting 
and  laborious  attempts,  learns  to  speak  words.    Eventually 


TECHNICAL  PRINCIPLES  283 

he  is  no  longer  conscious  of  the  effort,  and  when  he  has 
something  to  say,  his  thoughts  shape  themselves  involun- 
tarily into  words.  When,  by  much  repetition,  the  habit  of 
speech  is  formed,  breath  and  voice  and  tongue  and  lips  act 
together  automatically.  But  if,  when  he  reaches  maturity, 
his  speech  is  unpleasant  or  indistinct  or  otherwise  faulty, 
it  means  that  conscious  attention  to  methods  of  utterance 
has  not  been  kept  up  long  enough  and  inaccurate  speech 
has  been  allowed  to  pass  into  habit.  The  bad  habit  can  be 
changed  to  good  only  by  again  making  a  conscious,  volun- 
tary effort  to  use  the  voice  properly  and  to  form  words  cor- 
rectly. Nature  has  provided  the  jahysical  means  for  speech, 
but  she  has  left  a  good  deal  for  us  to  do.  She  has  not  en- 
dowed us  with  language  or  released  us  from  the  necessity 
of  learning  how  to  speak.  Man  has  had  to  create  his  own 
vocabulary  of  words,  and  he  has  had  to  acquire  control  of 
voice  and  tongue  and  lips  in  sounding  and  shaping  the 
words  he  has  invented.  Every  individual  must  go  through 
this  mechanical  process  and  acquire  this  control  for  himself. 
So  long  as  his  speech  remains  awkward,  crude,  or  indistinct, 
he  has  not  mastered  the  art  of  it. 

43.  Mahing  the  tone 

So  far  as  our  voices  are  concerned,  relatively  few  people 
use  tliem  well,  and  few  make  any  effort  to  improve  them. 
The  voice  of  fine  native  power,  range,  resonance,  and  purity 
is  about  as  rare  as  red  hair  among  the  American  Indians. 
A  few  favored  peoj)le  are  born  with  good  voices,  some  ac- 
quire good  voices,  and  a  very  few  have  good  voices  thrust 
upon  them.  It  is  not  to  be  marvelled  at  that  the  people  of 
other  nations  comment  on  the  bad  voices  of  Americans. 
The  American  voice  has  an  international  reputation  not 
altogether  creditable.  "  I  grieve  to  say  it,"  remarked  Dr. 
liolmes,   "  but  our   people,   I  think,   have    not  agreeable 


284  OR.VL  READLNG 

voices.  Sharp  business  habits,  a  lean  soil,  independence, 
enterprise,  and  east  winds,  are  not  the  best  things  for  the 
larynx.  Still  you  hear  noble  voices  among  us  —  I  have 
known  families  famous  for  them  —  but  ask  the  first  person 
you  meet  a  question,  and  ten  to  one  there  is  a  hard,  sharp, 
metallic,  matter-of-fact  business  clink  in  the  accent  of  the 
answer  that  produces  the  effect  of  one  of  those  bells  which 
small  tradespeople  connect  with  their  shop  doors,  and  which 
springs  upon  the  ear  with  such  vivacity  as  you  enter  that 
your  first  impulse  is  to  retire  at  once  from  the  precincts."  ^ 
Possibly  the  neglect  of  vocal  training  may  be  partially 
attributed  to  the  prevalent  idea  that  it  belongs  to  the 
merely  ornamental  accomplishments,  and  sensible  people 
shrink  from  artificialities  and  conscious  niceties  of  tone. 
But  sensible  training  leads  to  no  such  affectation.  The  best 
voices  are  most  simply  and  naturally  used,  and,  while  a 
good  voice  is  one  of  the  most  beautiful  possessions  one  can 
have,  it  is,  at  the  same  time,  one  of  the  most  useful  and 
contributes  in  no  small  measure  to  the  success  and  effect- 
iveness and  influence  of  the  possessor.  A  well-controlled 
and  expressive  voice  is  to  the  speaker  or  reader  what  a 
good  vocabulary  is  to  the  writer.  The  modulations  of  the 
voice,  as  has  been  shown  in  our  previous  study,  are  a  vital 
and  essential  part  of  our  vocabulary,  for  much  can  be  im- 
plied in  tone  that  cannot  be  said  in  words.  We  remember 
with  pleasure  the  rare,  kindly,  persuasive  voice  of  teacher 
or  parent  or  friend;  and  the  memory  lingers  long  after  the 
words  themselves  are  forgotten. 

There  is  in  souls  a  sympathy  with  sounds, 
Some  chord  in  unison  with  what  we  hear 
Is  touched  within  us,  and  the  heart  replies. 

Cowper. 

Now,  were  it  not  possible  to  improve  the  voice,  there 

1  Holmes:  Autocrat  of  the  Breakfast  Table. 


TECHNICAL  PRINCIPLES  285 

would  be  little  use  in  talking  about  it.  But  every  voice  may 
be  made  better  by  proper  training,  and  good  voices  may  be 
kept  good  by  attention  and  systematic  exercise.  The  voice  is 
sensitive  even  to  slight  discipline,  especially  before  an  indi- 
vidual has  passed  middle  life,  and  a  good  deal  may  be  done 
in  later  years  to  give  it  fullness,  resonance,  and  flexibility. 

44.  Forming  words 

The  production  of  tone  is  not  all.  Tone  must  be  shaped 
into  words,  if  spoken  language  is  to  be  significant  and  intel- 
ligible. The  process  of  accurately  sounding  the  letters  and 
syllables  of  words  requires  freedom  and  precision  of  action 
of  tongue  and  lips.  The  control  of  these  is  acquired  by  use 
and  training.  Inaccurate  and  indistinct  speech,  like  illegi- 
ble handwriting,  gives  evidence  of  carelessness  and  lack  of 
attention  and  discipline.  As  the  hand  is  schooled  to  form 
the  characters  of  written  language  clearly  and  gracefully,  so 
may  the  word-forming  organs  be  trained  to  work  easily  and 
precisely  in  spoken  language.  Most  readers  will  remember 
their  first  laborious  and  not  altogether  elegant  efforts  to  re- 
produce the  beautifully  slanted  letters  of  those  models  of 
writing  set  at  the  top  of  the  copy-book  page.  They  will  re- 
call, too,  how  the  copied  lines,  as  they  drew  away  from  the 
model,  resembled  it  less,  and  became  more  and  more  irregu- 
lar and  angular,  until  the  last  straggling  line,  begun  high 
enough  on  the  left,  was  with  difficulty  held  from  running" 
off  the  lower  right  corner  of  the  page. 

The  illustration  is  not  inapplicable  to  the  experience  ol 
most  of  us  in  learning  to  speak,  though  at  the  time  it  is 
hardly  likely  that  we  were  aware  of  the  influence  of  models, 
good,  bad,  or  indifferent.  If,  as  children,  we  were  fortunate 
enough  to  hear  only  beautiful,  distinct,  and  correct  speech, 
our  own  efforts  were  perhaps  not  without  promise.  But  as 
we  came  to  rely  more  on  our  own  copy,  and  were  meanwhile 


286  OR.\L  RE.VDING 

subjected  to  the  influence  of  the  confusion  of  tongues  of  our 
varied  and  extending  circle  of  acquaintances  and  friends, 
our  s])eec'h  lapsed  into  carelessness  and  indift'erence,  result- 
ing in  lialf -audible  syllables  and  mumbled  words  which  often- 
times had  to  be  mumbled  again  in  response  to  the  query, 
"  What  did  you  say?  " 

Such  questions  are  about  the  only  training  in  distinct- 
ness many  ever  receive.  We  become  accustomed  to  the  sound 
of  our  own  voices  and  our  own  style  of  utterance,  and  we 
are  not  aware  that  what  is  clear  to  us  is  not  always  intelli- 
gible to  others.  K  we  are  annoyed  by  frequent  requests  to 
repeat  our  remarks,  we  retort :  "  Do  you  want  me  to  shout 
it  ?  "  But  to  make  audible  sounds,  or  "  a  jangling  noise  of 
words  unknown,"  is  not  speech.  Spoken  language  is  intelli- 
gible to  the  degree  that  its  sounds  are  clearly  enunciated. 

We  speak  that  we  may  be  understood.  This  is  so  obvious 
that  we  are  prone  to  forget  it  in  our  practice.  If  our  speech 
is  easily  audible,  the  listener  is  pretty  apt  to  be  more  in- 
terested in  what  we  say  than  he  would  be  if  listening  were 
difficult,  for  he  has  more  energy  to  give  to  the  thought  we 
express.  What  Herbert  Spencer  says  of  economy  of  energy 
in  written  composition,  applies  with  equal  force  to  spoken 
language. 

"  Regarding  language  as  an  apparatus  of  symbols  for  the 
conveyance  of  thought,  we  may  say  that,  as  in  a  mechani- 
cal apparatus,  the  more  simple  and  the  better  arranged 
the  parts,  the  greater  will  be  the  effect  produced.  In  either 
case,  whatever  force  is  absorbed  by  the  machine  is  deduced 
from  the  result.  A  reader  or  listener  has  at  each  moment 
but  a  limited  amount  of  mental  power  available.  To  recog- 
nize and  interpret  the  symbols  presented  to  him,  requires 
part  of  this  power  ;  to  arrange  and  combine  the  images  sug- 
gested requires  a  further  part;  and  only  that  part  which 
remains  can  be  used  for  realizing  the  thought  conveyed."  ^ 
1  The  Philosophy  of  Style, 


TECHNICAL  PRINCIPLES  287 

It  behooves  the  reader  or  speaker,  then,  if  he  would  com- 
mand the  best  attention  and  arouse  the  liveliest  interest,  to 
speak  in  a  manner  that  shall  render  listening  easy  and 
pleasing. 

45.  Distinctness  of  speech 

Every  person,  not  hampered  by  physical  defects  which 
interfere  with  the  formation  of  the  sounds  of  the  language, 
can  acquire  distinctness  of  speech.  Enunciation,  articula- 
tion, and  pronunciation  are  mechanical  processes,  which 
become  second  nature  and  habitual  through  practice.  It 
sometimes  happens  that  inaudible  speech  is  due  to  insuffi- 
cient volume  of  tone,  but  more  often  the  fault  is  traceable 
to  enunciation.  Fine,  clear  diction  is  the  reward  of  dili- 
gence and  patient  endeavor ;  it  is  a  distinctive  token  of 
self-control,  self  respect,  and  culture. 

Closely  akin  to  the  enunciation  of  sounds  that  make  up 
words  is  the  pronunciation  of  words  themselves.  Correct 
pronunciation  is  to  speech  what  right  spelling  is  to  writing 
and  printed  language.  Like  spelling  it  is  conventional  and 
mechanical.  The  English  of  Chaucer  and  Shakespeare  has 
undergone  marked  changes  in  spelling  since  their  day,  and 
were  it  to  be  spoken  now  as  they  heard  it,  few  would  un- 
derstand. A  speaker  is  judged  by  his  pronunciation  even 
more  critically,  by  the  average  listener,  than  he  is  by  his 
choice  of  words.  A  poorly-managed  voice  maybe  tolerated, 
but  the  speaker  who  mispronounces  his  words  is  discredited 
and  is  classed  with  the  careless  and  illiterate.  It  is  only  the 
part  of  wisdom,  therefore,  for  the  speaker  to  seek  correct- 
ness of  pronunciation  and  to  speak  no  word  about  which 
he  is  in  doubt  —  and  the  doubtful  word  should  be  hunted 
up  at  the  first  opportunity.  Eternal  vigilance  is  the  price 
of  right  proininci-9tion. 

Voice,  enunciation,  articulation,  and  pronunciation  are 


288  ORiVL  RE.VDING 

the  principal  factors  in  the  mechanical  processes  of  speech. 
Proficiency  in  these  is  the  result  of  ohservation,  exercise, 
anil  carefully  formed  habits,  habits  at  once  pleasing,  dis- 
tinct, and  graceful  without  self -consciousness  or  affectation. 
But  back  of  mastery  of  the  mechanics  of  speech  is  the  more 
fundamental  thing  —  the  mastery  of  self.  Fine  speech  pro- 
ceeds out  of  fine  character.  Superficiality  and  insincerity 
reveal  themselves  in  habits  of  enunciation  and  pronuncia- 
tion as  truly  as  in  tones  of  the  voice.  A  man  is  known  by 
his  manner  of  utterance.  The  individual  cannot  long  con- 
ceal himself  under  external  niceties  of  diction.  Clear,  sim- 
ple, agreeable  speech  is  the  outgrowth  of  a  well-ordered  and 
disciplined  mind,  and  of  genuineness,  grace,  and  strength 
of  character.  In  the  last  analysis  it  is  not  fine  speech  it- 
self that  exerts  the  helpful  and  wholesome  influence,  but 
the  mind  and  spirit  of  the  individual  made  evident  and 
potential  in  these  outward  forms.  Good  speech,  like  good 
language,  tends  to  perpetuate  itseK,  not  merely  through 
imitation  of  the  speaker's  manner,  but  because,  through 
these  visible  and  audible  signs,  something  of  the  virtue  and 
character  of  the  man  makes  itseK  felt  and  passes  to  others. 

"  Surely,  whoever  speaks  to  me  in  the  right  voice,  him  or  her  I 

shall  follow, 
As  the  water  follows  the  moon,  silently,  with  fluid  steps,  any 

where  around  the  globe. 
All  waits  for  the  right  voices ; 
Where  is  the  practic'd  and  perfect  organ  ?  Where  is  the  deveL 

op'd  soul  ? 
For  I  see  every  word  utter'd  thence,  has  deeper,  sweeter  new 

sounds,  impossible  on  less  terms. 
I  see  brains  and  lips  closed  —  tympans  and  temples  unstruck, 
Until  that  comes  which  has  the  quality  to  strike  and  unclose. 
Until  that  comes  which  has  the  quality  to  bring  forth  what  lies 

slumbering,  forever  ready,  in  all  words." 

Whitman :   Voices. 


CHAPTER  XI 

TRAINING   THE   VOICE 

46.  Characteristics  of  a  good  voice 

The  first  questions  which  present  themselves  in  taking 
up  the  study  of  the  voice  are  :  "  What,  after  all,  do  we  mean 
by  a  good  speaking  voice  ?  "  "  What  are  some  of  its  char- 
acteristics ?  "  "  How  may  one  acquire  these  ?  " 

If  we  study  the  voices  of  different  individuals  we  shall 
observe  that,  though  the  voices  of  no  two  persons  sound  the 
same,  though  each  voice  has  qualities  peculiar  to  itself,  all 
pleasing  and  effective  voices  have  certain  chai-acteristics  in 
common.  We  shaU  find,  among  other  things,  that  every 
person  who  knows  how  to  use  the  voice  uses  it  loith  ease 
No  matter  how  strong  or  how  light  the  tone,  it  is  easily 
made.  A  voice  so  used  does  not  become  husky  or  hoarse, 
nor  does  it  tire  or  wear  out  with  use.  On  the  contrary,  use 
tends  to  improve  and  strengthen  it.  Another  thing  peculiar 
to  the  good  voice  is  clearness^  or  purity.  The  tone  is  not 
husky,  harsh,  shrill,  or  nasal.  Again,  the  weU-managed  voice 
is  full  and  resonant,  not  pijiing,  thin,  flat,  or  hard.  Fur- 
thermore, we  note  that  the  effective  speaking  voice  is  flex- 
ible, that  it  has  good  range  and  variety  of  pitch,  and,  more« 
over,  throughout  its  range  the  character  of  the  tone  remains, 
the  same,  that  is,  it  does  not  thin  out  or  break  over  into 
another  kind  or  quality  of  sound  in  passing  from  lower  to 
higher  notes,  but  everywhere  it  retains  its  rich,  round,  and 
full  resonance.  Lastly,  the  controlled  and  expressive  voice 
is  sympathetic.  It  is  not  hard,  metallic,  and  unfeeling,  but 
responsive  to  the  moods  and  emotions  of  the  possessor. 
These  are  some  of  the  more  notable  characteristics  of  the 


290  ORAL  RE.\DING 

good  speaking  voice  which  are  sought  in  vocal  training.^ 
The  following  suggestions  and  exercises,  if  carefully  ob- 
served and  assiduously  practiced,  will  do  much,  it  is  be- 
lieved, toward  securing  these  conditions  of  voice  for  the 
individual  student.  While  good  results  may  be  attained  by 
the  student  who  must  teach  himself,  the  aid  of  a  skilled 
teacher  is  highly  desirable.'-^ 

47.  How  to  gain  ease  in  tone  production 
Much  of  the  prevalent  misuse  of  the  voice  is,  without 
doubt,  attributable  to  a  misconception,  held  especially  by 
those  who  have  given  little  or  no  thought  to  the  matter, 
that  since  tone  is  produced  in  the  throat  the  muscles  of  the 
throat  must  consequently  do  the  work.  lu  the  case  of  a 
good  many  speakers  these  muscles,  assisted  by  the  muscles 
of  the  face,  actually  do  the  work,  and  hard  work  it  is,  too. 
No  better  illustration  of  this  sort  of  voice  use  is  needed  than 
that  afforded  by  a  group  of  students  shouting  at  a  football 
game  or  field  contest.  Nor  is  better  evidence  needed  of  the 
ill  effect  of  such  practice.  The  hoarseness,  and  often  the 
temporary  loss  of  voice  experienced  by  students  after  a 
game,  is  sufficient  proof  of  the  unnatural  strain  put  upon 
the  voice.  Many  persons  who  use  the  voice  much,  either  in 
public  speaking  or  reading  aloud,  or  even  in  conversation, 
suffer  similar,  though  perhaps  not  such  extreme,  conse- 
quences from  unnecessary  muscular  tension. 

1  In  the  program  here  {jiven  no  technical  exercises  for  quality  or  color  of 
voice  are  offered  for  the  reason  that  such  exercises  are  of  slight  value.  A 
sympathetic  voice  is  an  accompaniment  of  a  sympathetic  nature,  and  techni- 
cal drills  make  no  great  demand  on  the  sympathies  and  emotions.  Litera- 
ture -which  makes  a  strong  appeal  to  the  imagination  and  the  spirit  affords 
the  best  means  of  developing  the  sympathetic  qualities  of  the  voice.  (See 
footnote,  p.  205.) 

2  The  author  wishes  to  acknowledge  his  obligation  to  Dr.  S.  S.  Curry, 
whose  method  of  voice  training,  tested  through  a  period  of  years  in  college 
classes,  has  proved  sound,  safe,  and  efficacious.  Many  of  the  exercises  in  this 
chapter  have  been  drawn  from  the  instruction  received  from  Dr.  Curry.  For 
the  modification  of  some  and  the  addition  of  several  others,  the  author  alone 
is  responsible. 


TRAINING  THE  VOICE  291 

Now,  tone  is  contingent  upon  the  breath.  Without  it 
there  can  be  no  voice.  Breath  is  the  motive  power  of  tone. 
And  in  speaking  and  singing  the  greater  part  of  the  energy- 
required  should  be  used  in  controlling  the  breath.  The  en- 
ergy is  in  the  boiler,  not  in  the  whistle.  It  is  to  the  action 
of  the  strong  muscles  governing  breath  that  we  must  look 
for  relief  from  the  needless  tension  of  the  delicate  muscles 
of  larynx  and  throat.  If  the  voice  tires  easily,  or  is  hard, 
rasping,  or  otherwise  faulty,  first  aid  should  be  given  to  the 
breathing. 

I.  Management  of  the  breath.  The  first  thing  every 
human  being  does  in  this  world  is  to  breathe,  and  he  does 
it  without  knowing  why  or  how.  Breathing  to  sustain  life  is 
instinctive.  It  does  itself.  But,  since  speech  is  an  acquired 
thing,  we  are  obliged  to  learn  how  to  manage  the  breath 
for  speaking.  With  certain  modifications  the  muscular  ac- 
tion in  breathing  to  promote  life  and  to  produce  tone  is  the 
same.  Breathing  for  life  purposes  is  easy  and  so  natural 
and  automatic  that  we  seldom  think  of  it,  and  the  control  of 
the  breath  for  speech  should  become  as  easy  and  automatic. 
The  breath  for  speech  should  be  taken  in  and  given  out  in 
the  same  way  as  it  is  in  the  life  bi*eathing  of  the  normal 
person  who  is  unhampered  by  bad  habits  or  tight  clothing. 

If  you  observe  the  breathing  of  a  child,  you  will  detect 
very  little  movement  of  the  chest  but  a  good  deal  of  action 
at  the  center  of  the  body.  The  diaphragm  is  doing  most  of 
the  work.  When  the  breath  is  taken  in,  the  diaphragm  con- 
tracts and  draws  down  and  there  is  a  resultant  expansion  all 
round  the  middle  of  the  body  below  the  ribs.  At  the  same 
time  the  short  ribs  low  down  at  the  sides  are  pushed  out. 
When  the  breath  is  expelled,  the  diaphragm  relaxes  and  the 
parts  at  the  middle  of  the  body  return  to  their  normal  posi- 
tion. This  is  the  case  when  people  breathe  as  nature  intended 
they  should.  But,  unfortunately,  the  majority  of   adults 


29a  ORAL  RE.U)ING 

leave  off  breathing  as  they  should,  and  manage  to  get  along 
with  a  little  shallow  breathing  at  the  top  of  the  lungs. 
Perhaps  this  habit  of  superficial  breathing  begins  in  the 
schoolroom,  where  pupils  are  required  to  sit  several  hours 
a  day.  The  sitting  position,  especially  when  one  leans  for- 
ward over  desk  or  table,  is  not  conducive  to  deep  and  nor- 
mal breathing.  ISIoreover,  tight  clothing,  which  limits  action 
at  the  middle  of  the  body,  necessitates  high  chest  breathing. 
When  one  forms  the  habit  of  shallow  breathing  the  dia- 
phragm becomes  inactive  and  correspondingly  weak,  and, 
if  allowed  to  remain  idle  long  enough,  it  is  reluctant  to  act 
at  all  when  required  to  do  so.  But,  possibly  just  for  exercise 
and  to  keep  itself  fi'om  becoming  altogether  dormant,  and 
taking  advantage  of  times  when  it  will  not  have  to  work 
very  hard,  it  wakes  up  when  we  lie  down  to  rest  or  sleep 
and  assumes  its  normal  action.  But  whatever  the  cause 
may  be,  almost  every  one  breathes  normally  when  lying  at 
ease  on  the  back.  And  everybody  should  breathe  in  the 
same  way,  that  is,  with  the  use  of  the  diaphragm,  when 
standing  or  sitting  or  walking.  Practice  the  following  exer 
cises  until  the  action  of  breathing  when  lying  down  is  mad( 
habitual  under  all  conditions. 

Exercises  in  breathing 

1.  Lie  flat  on  your  back  on  the  floor  or  a  couch,  place  one  hand 
at  the  middle  of  the  body  just  below  the  ribs  and  the  other 
on  the  chest,  and  observe  the  action  when  you  inhale  and 
exhale.  If  you  breathe  naturally,  you  will  notice  a  good  deal 
of  movement  at  the  diaphragm,  and  relatively  little  at  the 
chest. 

2.  While  lying  flat,  take  your  breath,  hold  it  and  mentally  count 
five ;  then  let  the  breath  go.  Take  the  breath  again,  hold  it 
while  silently  counting  ten,  then  exhale.  Repeat  the  exercise, 
counting  to  fifteen.  Give  about  one  second  for  each  count. 
You  will  note  that  whatever  effort  is  made  in  breathing  is 


TRAINING  THE  VOICE  293 

made  when  the  breath  is  being  taken  in,  and  that  with  ex- 
halation there  is  relaxation  and  a  sense  of  relief. 

3.  Now  stand  erect,  and  with  hands  in  the  same  position  as  in 
exercises  1  and  2,  breathe  as  before.  If  the  action  is  not  the 
same  as  when  you  were  lying  down,  repeat  1  and  2,  then 
try  the  standing  exercise  again.  When  you  are  lying  down 
watch  what  the  actions  and  muscular  sensations  are,  how 
easy  the  movements  are  ;  then  in  the  standing  position  let 
yourself  breathe  just  as  easily  and  in  the  same  way  as  when 
lying  down. 

Continue  these  exercises  until  you  breathe  as  normally 
when  in  a  standing  position  as  when  lying  flat.  This  may  be 
accomplished  with  the  first  attempt,  or  it  may  take  a  week. 
In  any  event,  keep  trying  until  you  breathe  as  you  should, 
wliich  means,  with  the  action  of  the  diaphragm. 

4.  After  you  are  able  to  breathe  w^ell  when  standing,  take  an 
easy,  not  too  full,  breath,  holding  it  for  five  counts ;  ten 
counts ;  fifteen  counts  ;  twenty  counts.  Be  sure  to  relax 
well  after  each  attempt.  When  you  take  breath  for  the 
higher  numbers,  see  to  it  that  you  do  not  return  to  the  high 
chest  breathing  and  in  so  doing  permit  the  diaphragm  to 
quit  work. 

5.  Take  deep  breathing  exercises  in  the  open  air,  or  in  a  well- 
ventilated  room,  two  or  three  times  a  day.  Here  are  some, 
(a)  With  body  held  erect  and  arms  hanging  loosely  at  the 

sides,  throw  out  all  the  breath,  then  inhale  deeply 
through  the  nostrils  and,  as  you  do  so,  raise  your  arms 
at  the  sides,  stretching  them  out  as  far  as  you  can,  and 
bring  them  well  up  over  your  head.  When  the  hands 
are  over  your  head  see  that  the  palms  are  up.  Hold 
the  position  while  you  mentally  count  five.  Drop  the 
arms  slowly,  exhaling  as  you  do  so.  Repeat  and  hold 
while  you  count  ten  ;  fifteen  ;  twenty. 

(6)  Manage  tlie  breath  as  before  and  bring  the  arms  up  in 
front,  extending  them  well  out  and  up.  Hold  and  count 
as  in  the  preceding  exercise. 

(c)  Place  the  hands  at  the  chest  with  elbows  held  up,  throw 
out  the  breath,  inhale  slowly,  unfold  the  arms,  and  ex- 
tend them  out  and  back  as  far  as  you  can.  Repeat, 
Counting  silently  us  in  (a)  and  (h)  uLuve. 


294  ORAL  READING 

[d)  With  hands  hanging  at  the  sides,  take  a  deep  breath, 
hokl  it  linnly,  bring  up  the  hands  and  strike  the  chest 
rajjitUy  and  lightly.  Strike  well  up  and  down  and 
around  to  the  sides.  In  taking  this  exercise  do  not  hold 
the  breath  more  than  five  or  ten  seconds  and,  if  you 
are  not  used  to  it,  do  not  repeat  the  exercises  more 
than  twice  at  any  given  time. 

Exercises  fur  ease  at  the  throat 
After  you  are  able  to  control  the  action  of  the  diaphragm 
with  considerable  ease,  begin  the  following  exercises. 

6.  Stand  erect,  with  head  easily  poised,  open  the  mouth  as  you 
do  for  saying  "  ha,"  take  an  easy  breath  through  the  mouth  * 
and,  without  moving  the  javiT  or  tongue  or  throat,  exhale 
through  the  mouth  rather  slowly,  allov/ing  a  second  or  two 
for  it.  Repeat  this  three  or  four  times  to  make  sure  that 
there  is  no  action  of  the  jaw,  lips,  or  tongue. 

7.  Now  take  the  breath,  as  in  exercise  6,  begin  to  exhale  at 
bi-f ore,  but  after  the  breath  is  well  started,  merge  it  grad- 
ually into  the  easiest  possible  tone,  "  ha,"  prolonging  the 
sound  a  second.  Mal<e  this  tone  so  easily  that  you  are  not 
aware  of  any  effort  whatever  in  the  throat.  Do  not  move 
the  tongue  or  jaw,  but  leave  all  muscles  completely  relaxed. 
If  the  tone  has  a  hard,  metallic,  or  rasping  sound,  it  is  not 
being  made  easily  enougli.  Try  again  and  again,  using  plenty 
of  breath,  imtil  the  tone  is  soft  and  smooth.  Place  the  fin- 
gers on  the  larynx,  or  Adam's  apple,  and  see  that  there  is 
no  tightening  or  lifting  just  as  the  tone  begins.  Repeat  this 
exercise  until  you  are  able  to  blend  the  breath  into  ton© 
without  perceptible  effort  or  action  above  the  diaphragm. 

8.  Take  the  same  exercise  (number  7),  but,  instead  of  allow- 
ing breath  to  pass  out  before  the  tone  is  started,  initiate  the 

^  \Vhen  one  is  speaking,  most  of  the  breathing  is  done  through  the  month. 
In  the  act  of  speaking  one  finds  it  awkward  to  close  the  lips  or  to  raise  the 
tongue  at  the  back  to  keep  the  air  from  passing  through  tlie  mouth.  If  you 
v.ish  to  demonstrate  this,  try  reading  aloud  or  speaking  several  sentences, 
taking  pains  to  inhale  each  new  breath  through  the  nostrils,  and  notice  how 
unusual  the  action  is.  Many  vocal  exercises  require  mouth  breathing,  but 
let  it  not  be  understood  that  such  breathing  is  encouraged  when  the  voice  is 
not  being  used.    Always  breathe  through  the  uostiik  when  not  speaking. 


TRAINING  THE  VOICE  295 

tone  at  once,  keeping  the  same  open,  soft  quality.  Try  the 
exercise  on  different  pitches,  beginning  with  the  pitch  you 
have  been  holding ;  then  sound  the  first  note  above ;  the 
second  above  ;  and  so  on  for  four  or  five  notes.  Descend  the 
scale  to  the  original  pitch.  Prolong  these  tones  two  or  three 
seconds,  using  a  good  deal  of  breath  with  free  action  of  the 
diaphragm. 
9o  Repeat  exercise  8,  and,  as  the  tone  is  held,  gradually  in- 
crease the  volume.  Prolong  the  sound  five  or  six  seconds. 
Try  the  exercise  on  various  pitches.  Do  not  allow  the  quality 
of  the  tone  to  change  with  the  increasing  loudness.  Avoid 
hard  or  rasping  sounds. 

10.  Observe  the  same  conditions  as  in  exercise  9,  but,  instead 
of  making  the  sound  "ha,"  begin  with  "ho,"  holding  the 
tone  as  before  and  increasing  the  volume  gradually,  but  as 
the  volume  increases  slowly  merge  "  ho  "  into  "  a  "  (as  in 
arm)  tlius,  "  ho-a."  Hold  the  sound  six  or  eight  seconds. 
Practice  the  exercise  on  various  notes  of  the  scale,  but  do 
not  try  extreme  pitches.  With  the  transition  from  "  ho  " 
to  "  a  "  see  that  the  action  of  the  jaw,  tongue,  and  lips  is 
very  simple  and  easy.  Let  the  tongue  lie  quiet  in  the 
bottom  of  the  mouth  out  of  the  way,  the  tip  of  it  resting 
against  the  lower  front  gums,  as  it  lies  after  speaking  "  la." 

11.  Sing  the  scale  from  low  to  high  notes,  and  back  again,  using 
the  vowels  but  beginning  the  series  each  time  with  "  a,"  thus, 
a  a  e  1  0  il.  Sing  them  as  one  continuous  sound,  blending 
one  into  the  other  without  interruption  of  the  tone.  In  tliis, 
as  in  all  the  above  exercises,  see  that  the  tone  is  produced 
with  as  much  ease  at  the  throat  as  when  you  were  merging 
the  breath  into  tone  (exercise  7).  The  action  of  the  tongue 
and  jaw  in  forming  the  different  vowels  should  be  very  easy 
and  free. 

2.  Clearness  of  tone.  In  the  foregoing  set  of  exercises 
you  will  have  noticed  that  the  tones  of  your  voice  were  not 
altogether  clear  or  pure  or  sweet,  but  were  somewhat  breathy. 
Though  they  were  easily  made,  too  much  breath  was  used 
for  the  production  of  the  best  kind  of  tone,  and  not  all  the 
breath  which  passed  through  the  larynx  was  vocalized.  The 


296  ORAL  READING 

purpose  of  this,  as  has  been  made  evident,  was  to  secure 
complete  ease  and  freedom  of  the  throat,  by  takin<^  the  ten- 
sion away  from  the  muscles  there  and  putting  it  at  the  dia- 
phragm and  waist  muscle  where  it  belongs.  But  in  the 
production  of  the  best  tone  comparatively  little  breath  is 
allowed  to  pass  out  during  vocalization.  Clearness  and  pu- 
rity of  voice  is  determined  largely  by  the  amount  of  breath 
held  in  reserve  to  support,  or  back  up,  the  tone.  When 
you  are  able  to  breathe  with  free  action  of  the  diaphragm, 
and  to  produce  tone  through  a  well  relaxed  throat,  the  fol- 
lowing exercises  may  be  undertaken :  — 

12.  Stand  in  an  easy  upright  position,  with  shoulders  and  arms 
relaxed  and  head  easily  poised ;  take  a  fairly  full  breath, 
hold  firmly  at  the  diaphragm,  and  prolong  the  vowel  "  o  " 
on  a  note  of  middle  pitch.  Hold  the  tone  ten  seconds  ;  fif- 
teen seconds ;  twenty  seconds  ;  and  so  on,  emptying  the 
lungs  and  taking  a  good  breath  after  each  trial.  Hold  the 
back  of  the  hand  close  to  the  mouth  when  making  the  tone, 
and  allow  no  breath  to  be  felt  blowing  against  it. 

13.  Sit,  and,  holding  a  full  breath,  speak  ''po-pa"  on  a  mono- 
tone, merging  the  first  syllable  into  the  second  without  in- 
terrupting the  tone.  Use  about  two  seconds  for  the  sounds. 
Hold  back  all  the  breath  you  can,  and  be  sure  that  none 
escapes  before  tone  is  initiated.  Relax  and  take  a  fresh 
breath  after  each  couplet.  Try  the  exercise  on  various  notes 
of  the  scale.  Now  fill  the  lungs  to  their  full  capacity,  have 
a  sense  of  holding  all  you  have  taken,  and  repeat  the  cou}> 
let  three  times  without  replenishing  the  breath.  Repeat  on 
different  pitches.  When  filling  the  lungs  to  their  capacity, 
see  to  it  that  the  shoulders  are  not  raised  or  lowered.  The 
shoulders  should  be  held  normally,  never  thrown  back  with 
an  effort,  and  never  allowed  to  rise  and  fall  with  inhalation 
and  exhalation.  Test  yourself  in  this  by  repeating  exercises 
and  speaking  before  a  mirror. 

14.  Hold  the  vowel  "  o  "  (or  "  a  ")  as  long  as  you  can  on  one 
note.  Practice  the  sound  on  all  notes  of  the  scale  within 
your  easy  range.  If  you  are  not  accustomed  to  holding  the 


TRAINING  THE  VOICE  297 

breath,  you  may  be  unable  to  hold  the  tone  more  than  ten 
or  fifteen  seconds,  at  first.  Try  each  day  to  increase  the 
time.  As  you  gain  skill  in  reserving  breath  you  will  be  able 
to  bold  the  sound  much  longer,  perhaps  for  thirty  or  forty 
seconds,  or  even  a  minute,  but  the  effort  should  never  be 
carried  to  a  point  of  physical  discomfort. 

15.  Read  the  following  stanza,  making  clear,  pure,  mellow  tones, 
wholly  free  from  the  sound  of  escaping  breath.  Relax  and 
replenish  the  breath  at  the  end  of  the  first  and  second  lines, 
and  after  "  beyond  "  in  the  third.  Repeat  the  lines  several 
times,  endeavoring  each  time  to  hold  the  breath  better  than 
before  and  to  make  the  tones  purer  and  clearer. 

Above  the  pines  the  moon  was  slowly  drifting, 

The  river  sang  below  ; 
The  dim  Sierras,  far  beyond,  uplifting 

Their  minarets  of  snow. 

Bret  Harte :  Dickens  in  Camp. 

16.  Read  the  appended  extract,  sustaining  the  breath  through- 
out each  line.  Speak  the  lines  with  spirit,  making  the  tone 
clear,  buoyant,  and  joyous. 

Joy,  joy,  joy  in  the  height  and  the  deep ; 

Joy  like  the  joy  of  a  leaf  that  unfolds  to  the  sun ; 

Joy  Hke  the  joy  of  a  child  in  the  borders  of  sleep ; 

Joy  like  the  joy  of  a  multitude  thrilled  into  one ; 

Joj'  joj'  joy  in  the  deep  and  the  height ; 

Joy  in  the  hohest,  joy  evermore,  evermore. 

Richard  Hovey  :  The  Taliesin. 

3.  Resonance  and  fullness  of  tone,  Voice  does  not  issue 
from  the  larynx  full-formed  and  complete,  but,  as  explained 
in  a  preceding  chapter  (pp.  203-04),  quality,  fullness,  and 
richness  of  tone  are  largely  determined  in  the  resonance 
chambers  of  the  throat,  the  mouth,  and  the  nasal  cavities. 
The  best  tone  can  be  produced  only  when  all  resonance 
chambers  of  throat  and  head  are  roomy  and  free  from  ob- 
struction. An  attack  of  tonsillitis,  or  a  cold  in  tlie  head, 
interferes  seriously  with  the  voice.  Much  of  the  thinness, 


«98  ORAL  READING 

flatness,  shrillness,  and  nasality,  so  common  in  our  speech, 
is  attributable  to  constrietion  and  narrowness  of  the  phar- 
ynx and  the  mouth.  The  adjustment  and  action  of  the 
flexible  muscles  and  tissues  of  these  parts  are  within  the 
control  of  the  will.  The  following  exercises  have  been 
found  useful  in  establishing  conditions  favorable  to  normal 
resonance :  — 

17.  Hold  a  mirror  before  you,  draw  in  a  full  breath  through 
the  well-opened  mouth,  and  see  whether  the  uvula,  or  pen- 
dant portion  of  the  soft  palate,  is  visible.  Can  you  see  the 
walls  of  the  throat  back  of  this  lobe  of  the  palate  when  you 
exhale  the  breath  in  sounding  the  vowel  "  a  "  ?  If  not,  try 
saying  ''  ga  "  two  or  three  times  with  the  mouth  wide  open. 
Repeat  "  a,"  prolonging  the  tone,  several  times,  or  until  you 
are  able  to  lift  easily  the  uvula  from  the  back  of  the 
tongue,  and  until  you  can  see  the  back  of  the  throat  plainly. 

18.  Prolong  the  sound  "koo,"  making  the  tone  reverberate 
strongly  in  the  upper  part  of  tiie  throat  and  the  back  of  the 
mouth.  Have  a  sense  of  enlarging  the  throat  to  its  full  ca- 
pacity in  sounding  the  tone.  Sing  the  exercise  up  and  down 
the  scale,  holding  the  tone  three  or  four  seconds. 

19.  Stand  firmly  on'  both  feet,  relax  the  shoulders,  and  let  the 
arms  hang  at  the  sides  ;  bend  forward  from  the  waist  as  far 
as  you  can,  relax  the  muscles  of  the  neck,  and  allow  the  head 
to  hang  down  easily  as  far  as  it  will  go.  While  in  this  po- 
sition, sound  a  prolonged  "oo"  (as  in  "boom"),  making 

.  the  tone  full  and  round.  While  holding  the  sound  raise  tlie 
body  to  an  upright  {)osition,  and,  as  you  do  so,  relax  the 
jaw,  open  the  mouth,  and  merge  the  "  oo "  into  a  strong 
*'a."i 

See  that  the  mouth  is  opened  enough  to  permit  you  to  place 
two  fingers,  one  above  the  other,  between  the  teeth.  Repeat 

1  This  is  a  good  exercise  for  overcoming'  nasality,  which  is  caused  by  allow- 
ing too  much  vibration  in  the  nasal  cavities,  and  not  enough  in  the  mouth  and 
upper  part  of  the  throat.  For  remedying  this  fault  try,  also,  the  following : 
(1)  hold  the  nose  and  speak  the  vowel  sounds  ;  (2)  hold  the  nose  and  speak 
words  or  combinations  of  words  not  containing  n  or  m.  Continue  such  exer- 
cises until  the  resonance  of  your  ordinary  speech  becomes  more  rich  and 
normal. 


TRAINING  THE  VOICE  299 

the  exercise  slowly  two  or  three  times.  Do  not  continue  the 
exercise  at  any  one  time  to  the  point  of  discomfort. 

20.  Speak  "fo-fa,"  relaxing  the  jaw  for  the  latter  half  of  the 
couplet  so  that  two  fingers  may  be  placed,  one  above  the 
other,  between  the  teeth.  Repeat  the  exercise  many  times 
and  frequently  until  the  muscles  of  the  jaw  are  easily  re- 
laxed and  become  flexible.^ 

21.  Sound  the  vowels  a  e  i  o  u,  and  open  the  mouth  for  each  of 
them  sufficiently  to  permit  the  placing  of  one  finger  between 
the  teeth.  Practice  the  scale  in  this  way. 

22.  The  tongue  is  sometimes  an  unruly  and  obstructive  mem- 
ber, drawing  itself  back  and  ridging  up,  preventing  the  free, 
open  utterance  of  the  vowels.  In  forming  the  vowels,  with 
possibly  the  exception  of  "  e,"  which  is  not  made  in  the 
same  way  by  aU  persons,  the  tongue  should  lie  flat  in  the 
mouth,  with  the  tip  touching  the  gums  of  the  lower  front 
teeth,  as  it  lies  after  speaking  "la."  Try  repeating  '' la-la- 
lo  "  with  continuous  tone,  using  the  tongue  quickly  and  eas- 
ily and  allowing  it  to  lie  lightly  in  the  bottom  of  the  mouth 
for  each  vowel.  Speak  the  following  lines  slowly,  opening 
the  mouth  well  and  keeping  the  tongue  low  and  well  for- 
ward for  the  vowels. 

"  Over  the  rolling  waters  go." 

"  So  all  day  long  the  noise  of  battle  rolled 
Among  the  mountains  by  the  winter  sea." 

"  I  played  a  soft  and  doleful  air, 
I  sang  an  old  and  moving  story  — 
An  old  rude  song,  that  suited  well 
That  ruin  wild  and  hoary." 

4.  Range  and  flexibility.  Variety  is  the  life  of  speech  as 
truly  as  it  is  the  spice  of  life.  A  voice  of  good  range  and 
flexibility,  capable  of  responding  to  every  shade  of  thought^ 

^  The  mouth  may  he  thought  of  as  the  natural  meg^aphone  of  the  voice, 
mag^iifying  and  reinforcing-  the  tone  as  it  opens.  To  test  this  close  the  teeth 
and  say  "  a  "  loudly  ;  thou,  without  interrupting  the  sound,  open  the  mouth 
so  that  two  fingers  may  be  placed  between  the  teeth  and  note  how  the  vol- 
ume of  tone  is  increased.  Form  the  habit  of  opening  the  mouth  well  when 
you  speak. 


800  ORAL  RE.VDING 

is  essentiiil  to  pleasing  and  effective  speech  of  any  kind.  It 
is  often  found  that  the  monotonous  voice  is  associated  with 
an  iiniiiusii'al  ear.  In  such  cases  training  of  the  ear  should 
accompany  training  of  the  voice.  With  practice  and  per- 
severance the  ear  of  persons  who  cannot  distinguish  I'an- 
Jcee  Doodle  from  the  QUI  Hundred  may  be  educated  to  a 
considerable  degree  of  accuracy  in  recognizing  the  pitch 
of  tones,  and  at  the  same  time  the  voice  may  be  made  flex- 
ible and  responsive  and  its  range  notably  extended. 

23.  If  the  ear  is  not  quick  to  catch  the  pitch  of  a  tone,  sound  a 
note  on  the  piano  or  other  instrument,  close  the  eyes,  shut 
out  all  other  impressions,  and  listen  attentively.  Wlien  the 
sound  possesses  the  ear  and  the  mind,  sing  "  o  "  and  a])[ir;.'X- 
imate  as  closely  as  you  can  the  pitch  of  the  voice  to  that 
of  the  instrument.  After  this  tone  is  secured,  sound  the  one 
above,  then  the  next  above  that,  and  so  on.  A  teacher  or 
friend  may  render  valuable  assistance  here  by  indicating 
when  the  voice  does  or  does  not  strike  the  tone  sounded  by 
the  instrument.  This  practice  should  be  continued,  at  fre- 
quent intervals,  over  a  long  period  of  time.  Concentiation 
ami  perseverance  in  practice  will  do  much  to  render  the  ear 
sensitive  and  true  to  pitch. 

24.  Speak  the  vowels  in  unbroken  utterance,  beginning  low  on 
the  scale,  and  allowing  the  voice  to  rise  through  its  whole 
range  in  speaking  the  series ;  begin  high  and  descend  the 
scale  to  the  lowest  tones. 

25.  Speak  the  vowels  as  before,  beginning  on  a  low  note,  giving 
the  first  vowel  a  long  upward  inflection  and  continuing  the 
others  on  successive  higher  tones,  as  if  asking  a  question, 
thus:  — 

? 

v' 
y 
/ 

a/ 
/ 


TRAINING  THE  VOICE  301 

Reverse  the  process,  beginning  high  and  giving  a  long  fall- 
ing inflection  to  the  first  vowel,  then  to  the  second,  and  so 
on,  allowing  the  others  to  drop  away  to  the  lowest  tones,  as 
in  answering  a  question,  thus :  — 


e\ 

o\ 
u.\ 

26.  Inflect  the  voice  repeatedly  upward  from  the  lowest  to  the 
highest  tones  easily  reached  on  the  vowel  "  a,"  thus :  — 

/ 
a 

Reverse  the  inflection. 

27.  Speak  words  with  a  long,  strong  inflection  of  question,  sur- 
prise and  assertion,  thus  :  — 

/  /  /  / 

Oh?     No?     Yes?     Away? 

\  \  \  \  \ 

Oh!     No!     Yes!     Away!     Ahoy! 

28.  Read  aloud,  with  as  much  variety  and  range  of  inflection  as 
you  can  command,  tlie  scene  from  Julius  Ccesar,  iii,  iii, 
problem  13,  pp.  63-64. 

EXERCISE    IN    VOICE    TRAINING 

The  following  poem  affords  excellent  opportunity  for  ap- 
plying in  actual  speech  all  the  princij^les  set  forth  in  the 
above  program  of  exercises.  Study  it  carefully  and  read  it 
often,  endeavoring  always  to  command  that  control  of  breath, 
clear  tone,  fullness,  and  resonance  of  voice  which  its  thought 
and  spirit  demand. 


80^  ORAL  REiVDmG 

THE  RISING  1 

T.  Buchanan  Read 
Out  of  tlie  Nortli  the  wild  news  came, 
Far  fliishing  on  its  wings  of  flame, 
8vvift  as  tlie  boreal  light  which  flies 
At  midnight  through  the  startled  skies. 

And  there  was  tumult  in  the  air, 

The  fife's  shrill  note,  the  drum's  loud  beat, 

And  through  the  wide  land  everywhere 
The  answering  tread  of  hurrying  feet ; 

"While  the  first  oath  of  Freedom's  gun 

Came  on  the  blast  from  Lexington; 

And  Concord,  roused,  no  longer  tame, 

Forgot  her  old  baptismal  name, 

Made  bare  her  patriot  arm  of  power, 

And  swelled  the  discord  of  the  hour. 

Within  its  shade  of  elm  and  oak 

The  church  of  Berkley  Manor  stood ; 
There  Sunday  found  the  rural  folk, 

And  some  esteemed  of  gentle  blood. 
In  vain  their  feet  wath  loitering  tread 

Pass'd  'mid  the  graves  where  rank  is  naught ; 

All  could  not  read  the  lesson  taught 
In  that  republic  of  the  dead. 

How  sweet  the  hour  of  Sabbath  talk, 
The  vale  with  peace  and  sunshine  full. 

Where  all  the  happy  people  walk, 

Decked  in  their  homespun  flax  and  wool ! 

Where  youths'  gay  hats  with  blossoms  bloom, 
And  every  maid,  with  simple  art, 
Wears  on  her  breast,  like  her  own  heart, 

A  bud  whose  depths  are  all  perfume ; 
While  every  garment's  gentle  stir 
Is  breathing  rose  and  lavender. 

^  From  The  Wagoner  of  the  Alleghani«s.  Copyrighted  by  J.  B.  Lippincott 
Company.  Used  with  the  kind  permission  of  the  publishers. 


TRAINING  THE  VOICE  SOS 

The  pastor  came  :  his  snowy  locks 

Hallowed  his  brow  of  thought  and  care ; 

And,  calmly  as  shepherds  lead  their  flocks, 
He  led  into  the  house  of  prayer. 

The  pastor  rose :  the  prayer  was  strong ; 
The  psalm  was  warrior  David's  song ; 
The  text,  a  few  short  words  of  might,  — 
"  The  Lord  of  hosts  shall  arm  the  right !  " 

He  spoke  of  wrongs  too  long  endured, 
Of  sacred  rights  to  be  secured ; 
Then  from  his  patriot  tongue  of  flame 
The  startling  woi'ds  for  Freedom  came. 
The  stirring  sentences  he  spake 
Compelled  the  heart  to  glow  or  quake, 
And,  rising  on  his  theme's  broad  wing, 

And  grasping  in  his  nervous  hand 

The  imaginary  battle-brand, 
In  face  of  death  he  dared  to  fling 
Defiance  to  a  tyrant  king. 

Even  as  he  spoke,  his  frame,  renewed 
In  eloquence  of  attitude. 
Rose,  as  it  seemed,  a  shoulder  higher; 
Then  swept  his  kindling  glance  of  fire 
From  startled  pew  to  breathless  choir; 
When  suddenly  his  mantle  wide 
His  hands  impatient  flung  aside, 
And,  lo  !  he  met  their  wondering  eyes 
Complete  in  all  a  warrior's  guise. 

A  moment  there  was  awful  pause,  — 

When  Berkley  cried,  "Cease,  traitor!  cease! 

God's  temple  is  the  house  of  peace !  " 
The  other  shouted,  "  Nay,  not  so, 
When  God  is  with  our  righteous  cause ; 

His  holiest  places  then  are  ours, 

His  temples  are  our  forts  and  towers 


S04  ORAL  RE^VDING 

That,  frown  upon  the  tyrant  foe ; 
In  this,  the  dawn  of  Freedom's  day, 
There  is  a  time  to  fight  and  pray  !  " 

And  now  before  the  open  door  — 

The  warrior-priest  had  ordered  so  — 
The  enlisting  trumpet's  sudden  roar 
Rang  through  the  chapel,  o'er  and  o'er. 

Its  long  reverberating  blow, 
So  loud  and  clear,  it  seemed  the  ear 
Of  dusty  Death  must  wake  and  hear. 
And  there  the  startling  drum  and  fife 
Fired  the  living  with  fiercer  life ; 
While  overhead,  with  wild  increase, 
Forgetting  its  ancient  toll  of  peace, 

The  great  bell  swung  as  ne'er  before : 
It  seemed  as  it  would  never  cease ; 
And  every  word  its  ardor  flung 
From  off  its  jubilant  iron  tongue 

"Was,  "  War  !  War  !  War  !  " 

"  Who  dares  "  —  this  was  the  patriot's  cry, 
As  striding  from  the  desk  he  came  — 
"  Come  out  with  me,  in  Freedom's  name, 
For  her  to  live,  for  her  to  die  ?  " 
A  hundred  hands  flung  up  reply, 
A  hundred  voices  answered  "J/** 


CHAPTER  XII 

ENUNCIATION   AND   PRONUNCIATION 

48.    The  dements  of  speech 

Speech  is  made  up  of  vowel  and  consonant  sounds  com- 
bined to  form  words.  Distinctness  and  accuracy  depend, 
therefore,  on  the  clear  and  correct  enunciation  of  these 
elements. 

I.  The  vowels.  Vowels  are  the  more  open  sounds  of 
language.  They  are  made  by  the  vibration  of  the  vocal 
chords,  and  differentiated  by  modification  in  the  shape  of 
the  oral  cavity,  effected  chiefly  by  the  tongue  and  the  jaw. 
When  the  vowels  are  well  sounded  there  is  little  constric- 
tion of  the  tongue  or  jaw,  their  action  is  free  and  easy,  and 
the  mouth  is  held  as  far  open  as  the  character  of  the  vowel 
permits.  (In  speaking  "  a,"  for  example,  the  jaw  is  dropped 
farther  than  for  sounding  "  e,"  but  for  both  vowels  the 
mouth  is  fairly  well  opened.) 

For  the  correct  utterance  of  vowels  two  things  are  essen- 
tial. First,  the  speech  organs  must  be  properly  placed  for 
forming  the  sounds ;  second,  the  sound  must  he  made. 
Since  the  ability  to  make  the  sounds  of  our  language  i" 
acquired  mainly  through  the  sense  of  hearing,  written  in 
struction  in  this  matter,  when  instruction  is  needed,  is  oi 
doubtful  value.  Incorrect  formation  of  these  sounds  can 
best  be  remedied  by  the  aid  of  a  teacher.  But  it  is  worth 
while  here  to  call  attention  to  the  necessity  of  sounding 
the  vowels  and  to  suggest  certain  methods  of  improving 
speech  in  this  respect. 

Much  of  indistinctness  in  speech  is  due  to  carelessness 


S06  ORAL  RE.\DING 

in  enunciating  the  vowels.  Often  they  are  spoken  with 
slight  regard  for  their  ijuautity,  eitlier  of  vocality  or  of  time, 
and  frequently  they  are  not  spoken  at  all.  Every  vowel, 
liaN'ing  a  share  in  the  sound  of  a  word,  should  receive  a 
definite  stroke  of  the  voice,  sometimes  slight,  to  be  sure, 
but  nevertheless  audible.  If  all  syllables  were  accented,  it 
is  likoly  that  we  should  have  little  cause  for  saying  much 
about  the  utterance  of  vowels.  The  unaccented  vowels  are 
the  ones  neglected. 

AVhen  one  speaks  to  a  single  individual,  most  of  one's 
attention  is  given  to  that  person,  but,  if  others  gather 
about  to  listen,  the  attention  is  directed  to  them  also. 
While  one  member  of  the  group  may  receive  more  atten- 
tion than  the  rest,  none  is  ignored.  To  turn  one's  back  on 
one  of  the  number  would  be  rude  and  discourteous.  Now, 
attention  in  the  utterance  of  words  is  analogous  in  some 
respects  to  that  given  to  a  small  group  of  people  one  is 
addressing.  A  word  of  one  syllable,  when  standing  alone, 
is  usually  treated  with  due  respect,  but  when  several  syl- 
lables are  combined  to  form  a  word,  the  less  important 
ones  receive  relatively  slight  attention  and  sometimes,  be- 
cause of  haste  or  thoughtlessness,  none  at  all.  No  special 
effort  to  give  the  vowels  their  proper  quantity  is  necessary 
in  speaking  such  words  as 

call  fall  arm  note  lay 

count  balm  vow  prove  pose 

But  when  an  unaccented  syllable  is  prefixed  to  the  word, 
some  effort  may  be  necessary,  and  the  speech  of  many  per- 
sons would  be  more  distinct  and  intelligible  if  the  effort 
were  consistently  made.  Speak  this  next  list  of  words  with 
attention  to  the  unaccented  syllables,  as  well  as  to  the 
accented. 

recall'  befall'  disarm'  connote'  delay' 

account'       embalm'       avow'  improve'         oppose' 


ENUNCIATION  AND  PRONUNCIATION 


307 


Try  the  following  words,  in  winch  two  unaccented  syl- 
lables precede  the  accented.  Be  careful  to  sound  all  the 
vowels. 


disavow' 
miscoustrue' 


disapprove' 
disappear' 


contradict' 
iuterveue' 


Unaccented  syllables  following  an  accented  are  no  less 
subject  to  neglect.    Sound  both  syllables  in 


voice'Iess 

low'Iy 

count'ing 

couu'ty 

ar'my 

right'ly 

cit'y 

iu'fant 

cop'ied 

fan'cied 

for'ty 

need'y 

need'ed 

slight'ed 

con'scious 

Unstressed  syllables  preceding  and  following  the  ac- 
cented syllable  afford  a  good  test  of  one's  accuracy  and 
habits  of  enunciation. 

impor'ted  dejeet'ed  diseours'ing         insip'id 

impor'tant  arbitra'rily         volunta'rily         unques'tionable 

recoucilia'tion     iutelligibil'ity    intellectuarity    fortitu'diiious 

Practice  the  following  list  of  words,  being  careful  to 
sound  all  the  vowels  and  to  give  to  each  its  normal  quan- 
tity. Go  over  the  list  often,  until  careful  and  accurate 
habits  of  enunciation  are  formed. 


dis-own' 

ab-stract' 

al-low' 

at-tracf 

dis-solve' 

a-bridge' 

ad-vance' 

di-rect' 

di-vert' 

ad-here' 

a-dult' 

al-ly' 

dis-course' 

re-source' 

fi-nance' 

pre-tense' 

in-tro-duce' 

in-dis-creet' 

re-pre-sent' 

dis-a-gree' 

vol-im-teer' 

mag-a-zine' 

dis-con-uect' 

dis-ajvpoint' 

cir-cum-vent' 

op-por-tune' 

dis-cou-tent' 

dis-be-lieve' 

cur'-rent 

in'-stant 

bon'-or 

mu'-sic 

du'-ty 

con'-stant 

bope'-ful 

mo'-tion 

beau'-ty 

liq'-uor 

hood'-lum 

hap'-py 

mis'-cbie-vous 

cbas'-tise-ment 

beau'-tl-fy 

im'-po-tent 

ef'-fi-gy 

nu'-mer-al 

im'-pi-ous 

des'-ti-tute 

char'-ac-ter 

mem'-o-ry 

max'-i-mura 

gov'-ern-ment 

ob'-vi-ous-ly 

rep'-a-ra-ble 

com'-pa-ra-ble 

rev'-o-ca-ble 

SOS  ORAL  READING 

in-ci'-sion  dra-mat'-ic  con-diic'-tor  di-dac'-tic 

dc-oi'-sion  coii-di'-tiou  ile-jec'-tion  di-lem'-uia 

iu-cul'-cate  in-cen'tive  pro-mo'-tion  re-lin'-qiiish 

ar-bi-tra'-ri-ly  iii-com'-pa-ra-ble  ir-rep'-a-ra-bly 

ig-no-niiii'-i-ous-ly  ir-rev'-o-ca-bly  sub-sid'-i-a-ry 

ii-re-piess'-i-bly  coii-veii'-tiou-al-ly  vo-oab'-u-la-ry 

iu-di-vid'-u-al-ly  tri-au'-gu-lar-ly  nu-mer'-ic-al-ly 

o-le-o-m  ar'-ga-ri  n  im-prac-ti-ca-bi  1  '-i-ty 

en-thu-si-as'-tic-al-ly  con-sti-tii-tion-al'-i-ty 

un-iii-tel-li-gi-bil'-i-ty         im-ma-te-ri-al'-i-ty 

mis-rep-re-sen-ta'-tioQ 

ir-re-spon-si-bil'-i-ty 

mal-ad-min-is-tra'-tiou 

2.  The  consonants.  Consonants  are  the  more  closed  ele- 
ments of  spoken  lang-uage.  The  tone,  instead  of  being  al- 
lowed to  pass  out  freely  and  with  considerable  resonance, 
as  in  making  the  vowels,  is  more  or  less  obstructed  or  tem- 
porarily held  in  check  by  the  action  of  tongue,  teeth,  or 
lips.  The  position  of  these  organs  in  forming  the  different 
consonants  need  not  be  explained  here.  Such  instruction 
is  available  in  the  best  dictionaries. 

Clear,  accurate,  and  distinct  utterance  of  the  consonants 
requires  free  and  nimble  action  of  tongue  and  lips.  Any 
one  may  acquire  this,  as  the  pianist,  by  long  practice, 
gains  agile,  responsive  action  of  fingers  and  hands.  Dis- 
tinctness of  speech  is  a  matter  of  diligence  and  patient 
effort. 

While  a  good  deal  of  benefit  may  be  derived,  no  doubt 
from  the  repetition  of  difficult  and  more  or  less  artificial, 
tongue-twisting  combinations  of  consonants,  such  as  "  The- 
ophilus  Thistle,  the  successful  thistle  sifter,"  such  practice 
is  apt  to  result  in  labored  and  conscious  effort.  Since  con- 
sonants are  combined  with  vowels  to  form  syllables,  the 
realization    of   the   importance   of   uttering  all  syllables^ 


ENUNCIATION  AND  PRONUNCIATION         309 

whether  stressed  or  unstressed,  as  illustrated  in  the  list  of 
words  given  above,  will  do  much  toward  removing  careless 
habits  of  enunciation.  Tongue,  teeth,  and  lips  will  be 
:iiore  ready  to  do  their  work  when  their  duty  is  clear. 

Combinations  of  different  consonants  and  vowels,  like 
tcarta,  ga-ga-ga,  va-la,  ta-la,  fa-la,  po-pa,  practiced  rapidly 
•and  with  nimble  action  of  tongue  and  lips,  will  be  found 
helpful  as  exercises  for  control  and  agility  of  the  organs 
of  enunciation. 

3.  Pronunciation.  In  closing  this  brief  consideration  of 
some  of  the  technical  problems  of  speech,  a  word  about 
pronunciation  is  not  inappropriate.  While  the  pronuncia- 
tion of  our  language  is  continually  undergoing  change, 
there  is,  nevertheless,  a  certain  usage  or  standard  of  utter- 
ance in  accent,  and  sound,  and  quantity  of  the  vowels, 
which  passes  as  current  and  cultured  speech  everywhere. 
It  is  hardly  necessary  here  to  urge  the  importance  of  con- 
forming to  the  accepted  manner  of  pronouncing  the  words 
of  our  language.  That  is  self  evident  to  all  who  have  ears 
to  hear.  But  it  may  not  be  amiss  to  offer  a  suggestion  or 
two  which,  it  may  be,  will  prove  helpful  to  the  reader. 

Persons  accustomed  to  much  silent  reading  are  some- 
times embarrassed  to  find,  when  called  on  to  read  aloud, 
that  they  are  unable  to  pronounce  certain  words,  familiar 
to  their  vision  and  clear  to  their  understanding',  but  un- 
familiar  to  the  tongue  or  the  ear.  Those  whose  sight 
knowledge  of  language  is  more  accurate  than  their  ear  and 
speech  knowledge,  may  increase  the  latter  and  gain  accu- 
racy of  pronunciation  by  following  the  practice  of  fre- 
quently reading  aloud,  and,  while  doing  so,  of  taking  note 
of  all  words  about  which  doubt  is  felt.  It  is  also  helpful  to 
carry  a  notebook  in  which  unfamiliar  words  met  in  one's 
reading,  as  well  as  those  pronunciations  one  hears  during 
the  day  and  is  uncertain  about,  may  be  jotted  down.   Tlie 


810  ORAL  READING 

pronunciation  of  words  so  listed  should  be  looked  up  in  the 
dictionary.  Though  authorities  do  not  agree  on  the  pronun- 
ciation of  many  conuuou  words,  the  dictionaries  are  the 
reliable  records  of  current  usages  and  should  be  freely  con- 
sulted. About  the  best  advice  one  can  offer  is,  give  atten- 
tion to  the  language  and  pronunciation  of  agreeable  speak- 
ers, watch  your  own  speech,  and  when  in  doubt  consult  the 
dictionary.! 

EXERCISES    IN    ENUNCIATION    AND    PRONUNCIATION 
The  following  selections  offer  good  general  practice  for 
distinct  and  correct  enunciation  and  pronunciation :  — 

1.    Nor  ever  yet  had  Arthur  fought  a  fight 

Like  this  last,  dim,  weird  battle  of  the  west. 

A  death-white  mist  slept  over  sand  and  sea, 

Whereof  the  chill,  to  him  who  breathed  it,  drew 

Down  with  his  blood,  till  all  his  heart  was  cold 

With  formless  fear ;  and  even  on  Arthur  fell 

Confusion,  since  he  saw  not  whom  he  fought. 

For  friend  and  foe  were  shadows  in  the  mist. 

And  friend  slew  friend  not  knowing  whom  he  slew; 

And  some  had  visions  out  of  golden  youth, 

And  some  beheld  the  faces  of  old  ghosts 

Look  in  upon  the  battle ;  and  in  the  mist 

Was  many  a  noble  deed,  many  a  base, 

And  chance  and  craft  and  strength  in  single  fights, 

And  ever  and  anon  with  host  to  host 

Shocks,  and  the  siilintering  spear,  the  hard  mail  hewn, 

Shield-breakings,  and  the  clash  of  brands,  the  crash 

Of  battle-axes  on  shatter'd  helms,  and  shrieks 

After  the  Christ,  of  those  who  falling  down 

Look'd  up  for  heaven,  and  only  saw  the  mist ; 

And  shouts  of  heathen  and  the  ti'aitor  knights, 

Oaths,  insult,  filth,  and  monstrous  blasphemies, 

^  A  useful  and  handy  volume  for  reference  in  this  connection  is  W.  H.  P. 
Phyfe's  12.000  Words  Often  Mispronounced,  published  by  G.  P.  Putnam'« 
Sous,  New  York. 


ENUNCIATION  AND  PRONUNCIATION  311 

Sweat,  ^\Tlthlngs,  anguish,  laboring  of  the  lungs 
In  that  close  mist,  and  ciyings  for  the  light, 
Moans  of  the  dying,  and  voices  of  the  dead. 

Tennyson:   The  Passing  of  Arthur. 

2.  Hamlet.  Speak  the  speech,  I  pray  you,  as  I  pronounced  it 
to  you,  trippingly  on  the  tongue  :  but  if  you  mouth  it,  as 
many  of  your  players  do,  I  had  as  lief  the  town-crier  spoke 
my  lines.  Nor  do  not  saw  the  air  too  much  with  your  hand, 
thus ;  but  use  all  gently :  for  in  the  very  torrent,  tempest, 
and,  as  I  may  say,  whirlwind  of  your  passion,  you  must  ac- 
quire and  beget  a  temperance  that  may  give  it  smoothness. 
O,  it  offends  me  to  the  soul  to  hear  a  robustious  periwig- 
pated  fellow  tear  a  passion  to  tatters,  to  very  rags,  to  split 
the  eai's  of  the  groundlings,  who,  for  the  most  part,  are 
capable  of  nothing  but  inexplicable  dumb-shows  and  noise : 
I  would  have  such  a  fellow  whipped  for  o'erdoing  Terma- 
gant ;  it  out-herods  Herod  :  pray  you,  avoid  it. 

Be  not  too  tame  neither,  but  let  your  own  discretion  be 
your  tutor :  suit  the  action  to  the  word,  the  word  to  the 
action  ;  with  this  special  observance,  that  you  o'erstep  not 
the  modesty  of  nature :  for  anything  so  overdone  is  from  the 
purpose  of  playing,  whose  end,  both  at  the  first  and  now, 
was  and  is,  to  hold,  as  't  were,  the  mirror  up  to  nature  ;  to 
show  virtue  her  own  feature,  scorn  her  own  image,  and  the 
very  age  and  body  of  the  time  his  form  and  pressure.  Now 
this  overdone  or  come  tardy  off,  though  it  make  the  unskil- 
ful laugh,  cannot  but  make  the  judicious  grieve  ;  the  censure 
of  the  which  one  must  in  your  allowance  o'erweigh  a  whole 
theatre  of  others.  O,  there  be  players  that  I  have  seen  play, 
and  heard  others  praise,  and  that  highly,  not  to  speak  it 
profanely,  that  neither  having  the  accent  of  Christians  nor 
the  gait  of  Christian,  pagan,  nor  man,  have  so  strutted  and 
bellowed,  that  I  have  thought  some  of  nature's  journeymen 
had  made  men,  and  not  made  them  well,  they  imitated  hu- 
manity so  abominably. 

Shakespeare  :  Hamlet,  in,  ii. 


TO  TEACHERS 


I.  GENERAL   SUGGESTIONS 

EXERCISES    IN   EXTEMPORANEOUS    AND    IMPROMPTU 
SPEAKING 

Extemporaneous  and  impromptu  speaking  will  add 
much  to  the  interest  and  effectiveness  of  a  course  in  oral 
reading  and,  whenever  practicable,  it  should  be  introduced 
as  a  part  of  the  regular  work.  Occasional  short  talks  will 
provide  a  pleasant  change  from  the  regular  reading  lesson ; 
they  will  give  the  student  the  ability  to  think  on  his  feet 
without  thinking  too  much  about  them,  and  they  will  help 
him  to  relate  himself  easily  and  directly  to  others.  "  Con- 
versation," said  Emerson,  "  is  the  laboratory  and  work-shop 
of  the  student.  The  affection  and  sympathy  help.  The  wish 
to  speak  to  another  mind  assists  to  clear  your  own.  Every 
time  we  say  a  thing  in  conversation  we  get  a  mechanical 
advantage  in  detaching  it  well." 

The  talks  may  be  on  subjects  relating  to  the  text  assign- 
ments, such,  for  example,  as  those  suggested  in  lessons  of 
the  program,  or  on  topics  of  local  or  general  public  con. 
cem,  or  they  may  be  drawn  from  the  student's  own  expe- 
rience. Whatever  the  subject,  it  should  be  one  in  which 
the  student's  interest  is  keen  and  fresh. 

So  far  as  possible,  the  principles  of  the  chapter  under 
discussion,  or  last  assigned,  should  be  observed  in  the 
speeches.  Thus,  the  first  round  of  talks  mentioned  in  the 
progi-am,  and  relating  to  Irving  and  his  work,  may  be  crit- 
icized principally  for  clearness  of  thought  and  expression, 
the  second  round,  for  principles  of  grouping,  the  third  for 
conversational  variety  and  directness,  and  so  on. 

Outlines  of  extemporaneous  speeches  should  be  carefully 


31G  ORAL  READING 

prepared  and  handed  in  for  criticism  in  matters  of  clear- 
ness and  logical  arrangement.  These  should  be  returned 
with  suggestions  for  needed  improvement  or  revision.  Stu- 
dents should  become  thoroughly  familiar  with  the  revised 
outline,  should  follow  it  in  speaking,  and  should  speak 
without  notes. 

To  write  out  a  speech  in  full  often  helps  the  student  to 
clarify  his  thought  and  to  acquire  a  vocabulary  suited  to 
the  subject,  but  speeches  so  written  out  should  not  be  mem- 
orized. The  student  should  have  practice  in  choosing  his 
words  when  standing  before  others.  The  style  of  speech 
may  not  be  altogether  elegant  or  smooth,  but  at  least  it 
will  have  the  virtues,  —  which  memorized  speeches  rarely 
have,  —  of  directness,  naturalness,  and  spontaneity. 

Occasionally,  at  the  beginning  of  the  recitation  period, 
the  teacher  may  announce  some  subject  for  general  im- 
promptu discussion.  The  subject  should  be  simple,  of  course, 
and  one  with  which  all  members  of  the  class  are  familiar. 
Topics  relating  to  student  affairs  or  to  events  of  current 
local  interest  afford  good  material  for  such  impromptu 
speeches. 

Subjects  for  impromptu  talks  may  be  assigned  now  and 
then  to  individual  students.  These  topics  should  be  written 
on  cards  or  slips  of  paper  of  uniform  size  and  placed  on  a 
desk  or  table  in  front  of  the  class.  Each  member  of  the 
class,  when  called,  may  draw  a  slip  and  speak  for  a  minute 
or  two  on  the  subject  drawn.  This  is  a  profitable  exercise 
and  never  fails  to  arouse  interest. 

In  the  study  of  oral  expression  it  should  be  remembered 
that  extemporaneous  speaking  and  reading  aloud  involve 
the  same  mental  processes.  When  reading  aloud  is  tedious 
and  dull,  a  comparison  between  the  style  of  speech  in  direct 
conversation  and  that  which  obtains  in  the  reading,  will 
result  in  material  improvement  in  the  reading,  provided 


GENERAL  SUGGESTIONS  317 

the  difference  in  the  two  styles  is  recognized  as  being  the 
result  of  difference  in  directness  and  clearness  of  thinking. 
Any  advantage  gained  in  expressing  one's  own  thought  is 
gained  for  expressing  the  thought  of  the  printed  page 
when  that  thought  is  made  one's  own. 

Notes  on  Problems 

The  problems  in  this  Handhooh  should  not  be  considered 
merely  as  illustrations  of  certain  technical  principles,  but 
as  means  by  which  certain  principles  of  expressive  speech 
become  evident  when  thought  is  clear  and  its  significance 
is  strongly  felt.  Accuracy  of  thought  analysis  of  the  prob- 
lems will  be  apparent  in  the  vocal  analysis  shown  in  the 
reading.  The  problems  should  not  be  treated  as  exercises 
for  mere  mechanical  expertness. 

Each  set  of  problems  should  be  studied  not  alone  as  il- 
lustrations of  the  principles  of  the  particular  chapter  they 
stand  under,  but  also  as  exercises  in  the  principles  of  aJl 
chapters  previously  studied.  Thus,  the  adequate  rendering 
of  problems  in  rhythm  involves,  as  well,  correct  grouping^ 
emphasis^  and  significant  pitch  variation. 

The  Meaning  of  Preparation 

All  illustrations  and  problems  are  to  be  prepared  orally. 
Students  should  understand  at  the  outset  that  preparation 
means  thorough  analysis  of  the  thought  of  every  phrase  anJ 
line  and  such  vocal  preparation  of  every  passage  as  shall 
enable  the  reader  to  render  its  meaning  and  spirit  accu,; 
rately  and  truthfully.  Every  assignment  involves  definite 
problems  in  thought  and  speech,  and  not  until  these  prob- 
lems are  understood  and  mastered  is  the  lesson  prepared. 
Cursory,  slip-shod  reading,  reading  done  with  "  the  mouth 
open  and  the  mind  shut,"  should  not  be  allowed  to  pass 
unchallenged. 


SI 8  OR.\L  RE.\DING 

Emotional  JResponse 
The  most  difficult  problem  with  which  the  teacher  of 
expression  has  to  deal  is  how  to  elicit  a  response  of  imagi- 
nation and  emotion  from  the  student  and  to  get  him  to  put 
life  into  the  thought  of  the  printed  page.  There  is  little 
danger  that  students  in  the  classroom  will  overdo  emo- 
tional expression.  The  task  is  to  get  any  expression  of  feel- 
ing at  all.  The  familiar  direction  :  "  Feel  what  you  say"  is 
simple  and  valid ;  but  to  secure  clear  thought  and  a  just 
ratio  between  thought  and  emotional  exj^ression,  a  con- 
trolled, ready,  and  full  response  of  feeling,  without  apatliy 
on  the  one  hand  or  exaggeration  on  the  other,  is  no  incon- 
siderable part  of  the  teacher's  work.  A  good  deal  depends 
on  the  enthusiasm  of  the  teacher. 

Knowledge  of  Principles 
Knowledge  of  the  principles  of  expressive  speech,  and 
skill  in  detecting  the  cause  of  faults,  mannerisms,  and  in- 
effective speech,  are  absolutely  essential  for  the  teacher  of 
expression.  In  reading  aloud  one  often  feels  the  inade- 
quacy of  the  expression  and  the  insufficiency  of  vocal  powers 
to  render  all  that  the  passage  means.  Every  teacher  has 
heard  the  explanation  and  apology :  "  I  know  what  the  line 
means;  I  feel  it,  but  I  can't  say  it  right."  But  why  not? 
There  must  be  some  reason  for  the  difficulty.  Is  the  mean- 
ing clear?  Do  you  know  what  it  means?  Do  you  really 
appreciate  it  and  feel  its  truth,  beauty  and  power  ?  Is  your 
desire  to  speak  the  thought  to  others  strong?  Have  you 
covfidence  in  your  ability  to  speak  ?  Are  you  willing  to 
speak  it  as  well  as  you  can?  Or,  is  the  voice  unresponsive, 
weak,  unable  to  meet  the  requirements  of  the  passage? 
These,  and  numerous  other  questions,  rise  in  the  teacher's 
mind  with  every  unsuccessful  or  not  wholly  satisfactory 


GENERAL  SUGGESTIONS  319 

effort  of  a  pupil  to  express  the  meaning  of  a  passage.  And 
the  development  and  progress  of  the  pupil  depends  upon 
the  skill  with  which  the  teacher  solves  the  problems,  dis- 
covers the  difficidty,  and  suggests  the  remedy.  Sometimes 
the  discovery  of  the  obstacle  or  fault  is  sufficient,  but  more 
often  difficulties  are  overcome  only  after  diligent  work  and 
long-continued  practice.  A  knowledge  of  the  significance 
of  the  expressive  modulations  of  the  voice  is  invaluable  to 
the  teacher  in  helping  the  student  to  overcome  his  faults, 
and  to  develop  his  expressive  powers  to  their  best  capacity. 

The  Use  of  Selections  '•'•For  General  Reading''^ 
The  longer  selections  "  For  General  Reading"  found  at 
the  end  of  each  chapter  are  to  be  read  not  primarily  as 
illustrations  of  particular  principles  but  for  whatever  mes- 
sage or  interest  they  may  have  for  the  student.  They  should 
be  read  for  themselves  and  with  little  criticism  or  comment 
on  any  technical  matters  involved.  The  thoughtful,  spon- 
taneous, and  appreciative  reading  of  these  selections  will 
afford  opportunity  for  the  teacher  to  observe  what  progress 
has  been  made  in  natural,  expressive  reading  aloud. 

The  Use  of  Class  Time 
A  class  in  oral  expression  should  be  one  in  which  the 
students  do  most  of  the  talking.  The  skillful  teacher  will 
avoid  extended,  time-consuming  explanations  and  remarks. 
By  occasional  questions,  and  brief,  pointed  suggestions  and 
criticisms,  the  members  of  the  class  may  be  kept  alert  and 
be  made  aware  of  the  purposes  for  which  they  read  or 
speak,  without  serious  encroachment  on  the  time  of  the 
recitation  period.  Four  fifths  of  the  time  of  the  class  hour 
should  be  available  for  actual  oral  work  of  the  students 
themselves. 


3i0  ORAL  READING 

Criticism 

Criticisms  should  rarely  be  made  while  the  student  is  re- 
citing. It  is  usually  better  to  reserve  comments  until  he 
has  finished  his  recitation.  After  suggestions  have  been 
offered  the  recitation  may  be  repeated  at  once,  or  the  stu- 
dent may  be  given  time  to  ponder  over  the  criticism  until 
his  turn  comes  to  recite  again.  Occasionally  it  may  be  best 
to  interrupt  a  student  during  his  reading  or  speech  to 
offer  some  needed  suggestion,  but  when  it  is  evident  that 
such  interruption  confuses  or  irritates  him,  the  criticisms 
had  better  be  left  until  he  has  finished  his  immediate  task. 
The  sympathetic  teacher  will  not  err  in  this  respect. 

Criticisms  should  be  frank,  fair,  temperate,  and  kindly. 
The  critic  should  endeavor  to  view  the  student's  problem 
from  the  student's  standpoint.  Sarcasm  and  severe  denun- 
ciation seldom  avail  much. 


n.    SUGGESTIONS   EEGARDING  CHAPTERS 

Chapter  II 

Grouping 

Of  the  various  expressive  modulations  of  the  voice  found 
in  conversation,  change  of  pitch  seems  to  be  the  most  diffi- 
cult to  secure  in  reading  aloud.  Whenever  reading  is  a 
mechanical  rather  than  a  thoughtful  exercise,  this  will  be 
the  case.  The  student  whose  reading  is  without  variety 
may  be  aided  to  clear  thought  and  natural  speech  by  clos- 
ing the  book  and  telling  in  his  own  words  the  gist  of  what 
he  has  just  read.  It  is  likely  that  the  monotonous  reader 
will  be  unable  to  make  a  very  clear  statement  at  first.  Let 
him  read  the  passage  as  many  times  as  necessary  to  get  its 
thought,  and  converse  about  it  until  the  style  of  his  read- 
ing approximates  that  of  his  conversation. 

Chapter   III 

Pitch  Variation 

The  teacher  should  make  it  clear  to  the  student  that  the 
illustrations  used  in  this  chapter,  marked  or  spaced  to  rep- 
resent to  the  eye  something  of  the  pitch  variation  of  the 
voice  when  it  acts  under  the  stimulus  of  thought,  are  not 
meant  to  be  practiced  as  mechanical  exercises  in  voice 
manipulation.  Little  good  will  come  from  aneffort;  to,  r^c, 
make  the  voice  follow  the  inflections  and  leaps  indicated  >^ 
unless  the  idea  to  be  expressed  is  held  in  the  mind  when 
the  words  are  spoken.  The  illustrations  have  been  given 
in  the  hope  that  they  may  help  to  make  clear  the  truth  that 


8^2  ORAL  RE.\DING 

thinkinp;  eontrols  the  action  of  the  voice  and  that  the  voice, 
in  turn,  is  an  important  factor  in  determining  the  meaning 
which  the  listener  gains  from  the  words  he  hears. 

Questions  so  put  as  to  make  answers  possible  in  the 
words  of  a  sentence  nnder  consideration,  are  often  helpful 
in  bringing  out  the  sense  of  the  text.  In  the  case  of  the 
line  from  Julius  Ccesar  (quoted  on  p.  61)  some  such 
questions  as  these  may  be  asked :  Who  speaks  the  words  ? 
Is  he  one  whose  command  the  citizens  would  be  likely  to 
respect  ?  What  is  the  first  thing  he  orders  them  to  do  ? 
Go  "  hence !  "  Where  does  he  tell  them  to  go?  "  Home." 
What  does  he  call  the  citizens  ?  "  Idle  creatures."  Not 
men  or  citizens,  but  "creatures!"  What  command  does 
he  repeat  ?  "  Get  you  home."  Now  let  the  student  read 
the  line  as  it  stands.  If  the  reading  is  still  monotonous 
and  mechanical,  repeat  the  questions,  and  such  others  as 
suggest  themselves,  until  the  reading  gives  evidence  that 
the  situation  and  the  sense  of  the  line  are  understood.  The 
question  method  will  be  found  helpful  in  many  instances 
when  thinking  is  lax  or  the  meaning  of  lines  is  not  grasped. 
In  dealing  with  the  immature  pupil  especially,  much  de- 
pends upon  the  patience,  sympathy,  and  tact  of  the  teacher 
in  so  presenting  the  questions  as  to  arouse  his  interest.  He 
should  not  be  made  to  feel  that  he  is  being  quizzed  and 
questioned  in  order  to  betray  his  ignorance,  but  rather 
tliat  the  questions  are  being  asked  of  the  text  and  that  the 
text  has  the  answer  ready  in  its  own  words,  which  are 
there  for  him  to  use. 

Chapter  IV 

JEmphasis 

The  sentence  quoted  from  Hamlet  (p.  88)  may  be 
brought  close  to  conversation  in  style  of  utterance  when 


SUGGESTIONS  REGARDING  CHAPTERS         323 

the  ideas  of  it  are  simplified  and  given  purpose  by  such 
questions  as  these,  which  the  student  can  answer  in  the 
words  of  the  sentence :  What  are  3'ou  urging  some  one  to 
do  ?  "  Speak  the  speech."  ^  Hoio  is  it  to  be  spoken  ?  "  As 
I  pronounced  it  to  you."  How  did  you  pronounce  it  ? 
"  Trippingly  on  the  tongue." 

Chapter  Y 
Impressiveness  in  Speech 

(a)  Students  often  ask:  "How  shall  I  say  this  line?" 
The  wise  teacher  will  say,  in  substance  at  least,  "As  your 
understanding  instructs  you  and  as  your  honesty  puts  it  to 
utterance."  The  teacher  may  instruct  a  student  in  the 
meaning  of  a  piece  of  literature  and  by  question,  explana- 
tion, illustration,  and  example  open  his  mind  to  it,  but  the 
student  gains  nothing  in  being  relieved  of  the  burden  of 
doing  his  own  thinking  and  analysis  or  by  imitating  an- 
other's reading  of  a  line  or  stanza  which  he  does  not  under- 
stand. Imitation  is  a  doubtful  way  of  imparting  the  thought 
or  spirit  of  any  piece  of  literature.  The  result  may  be  curi- 
ous, but  it  cannot  be  convincing. 

No  doubt,  much  of  our  knowledge  of  how  to  do  things 
comes  through  imitation.  Children  learn  how  to  form  words 
by  imitating  others,  but  lohat  they  speak  is  determined  by 
their  own  minds.  There  is  a  distinct  difference  between 
instructing  a  pupil  in  the  use  and  control  of  his  mind  and 
voice  and  body  and  in  showing  him  how  to  speak  that  which 
he  does  not  understand,  and  the  purpose  of  which  is  not 
clear  to  him.  A  pupil  may  profitably  imitate  another  when 
necessary,  in  acquiring  the  use  and  control  of  his  voice  and 
body,  the  means  by  which  he  becomes  able  to  act  and  ex- 
press himself ;  but  he  gains  nothing  when  another  does  his 
thinking  and  work  for  him. 

1  Why  does  not  "  speech  "  need  emphasis  ? 


3^i  ORAL  RE.VDING 

(i)  Poetry  offers  a  greater  range  for  the  play  of  the  im* 
aginutiou  tiiul  oinotioiis  than  most  orations  do,  and  when 
selections  are  carefully  chosen  it  makes  a  more  direct  ap- 
peal to  the  interests  and  experience  of  the  student,  with  the 
result  that  expression  is  more  a])t  to  be  spontaneous  and 
spirited.  The  occasion  of  the  delivery  of  notable  orations 
and  the  conditions  that  prompted  them  may  be  outside  of 
the  student's  ken,  as  in  the  case  of  Burke's  Conciliation 
/Speech,  for  example,  or  Webster's  lieply  to  Hayne.  The 
situation  and  the  spirit  of  the  occasion  are  to  be  realized 
only  by  dint  of  considerable  reading  or  explanation,  and, 
even  with  this,  rarely  does  a  student  come  into  a  very  full 
realization  of  them.  Nevertheless,  well  chosen  passages  fi'oni 
modern  orations  may  be  effectively  used,  and  should  not  be 
ignored.  But  the  vocal  rendering  of  poetry  is  of  vital  im- 
portance in  trainmg  the  voice  for  speaking. 

Chapter  VI 

Vocal  Energy 

In  the  study  of  vocal  energy  the  student  should  be  re- 
minded that  none  of  the  modulations,  which  in  this  chapter 
are  considered  separately,  occurs  by  itself.  Every  tone  has 
some  degree  of  intensity,  duration,  and  kind  of  stress.  The 
analysis  has  been  made  for  the  purpose  of  offering  such 
suggestions  for  practice  in  vocal  energy  as  might  help  in 
acquiring  control  of  the  voice  in  its  full  range  of  expressive 
power,  and  in  overcoming  mannerisms  and  faulty  habits  of 
speech.  Lifelessness,  drawling,  uniform  loudness  and  speed, 
habitually  abrupt  and  insistent  stress,  are  all  faults  which 
practice  in  rendering  various  types  of  thought  and  emo- 
tions will  help  to  remove.  Careful  study  of  the  different 
problems  wiU  bring  the  student  to  a  realization  of  the  ex- 
pressiye  significance  of  the  modulations  of  vocal  energy, 


SUGGESTIONS  REGARDING  CHAPTERS         325 

and  his  mannerisms  will  eventually  give  place  to  a  freer, 
more  normal  expression.  If  speech  is  lifeless  and  drawling, 
let  the  student  render  thoughts  that  find  true  expression  in 
spirited  utterance ;  if  unvaried  in  loudness  and  speed,  let 
iim  practice  calm  and  reverential  selections ;  if  habitually 
abrupt,  insistent,  and  dictatorial,  he  should  practice  on  lines 
requiring  full,  sustained  median  stress.  Adaptability  of 
mind,  spirit,  and  voice  will  come  by  exercise  in  rendering 
thoughts  and  feelings  quite  contrary  in  their  normal  style 
of  expression  to  those  which  are  habitually  voiced  in  man- 
neristic  utterance. 

Chapter  VII 

Rhythm 

The  teacher  will  find  many  students  whose  habitual  and 
characteristic  rate  of  speech  is  slow  or  rapid,  according  to 
temperament  and  habit.  When  these  peculiarities  interfere 
with  true  expression,  when  they  override  the  influence  of 
the  thought  and  spirit  of  what  is  read,  they  are  to  be  treated 
as  mannerisms.  In  general,  such  cases  are  most  effectively 
handled,  not  by  insisting  that  speech  should  be  slower  or 
more  rapid,  but  by  directing  the  attention  of  the  student 
to  the  significance  of  the  words  spoken,  by  awakening  his 
interest  in  the  thought  and  his  imagination  to  a  vivid  real- 
ization of  the  scene  pictured  or  action  described,  and  by 
helping  him  to  understand,  by  reference  to  his  own  experi- 
ence, if  possible,  the  emotional  value  of  what  he  is  reading. 
Furthermore,  he  should  be  impressed  with  the  fact  that  he 
reads  or  speaks  for  the  purpose  of  conveying  ideas,  pictures, 
and  feelings  to  others.  The  student  will  be  helped  in  this 
if  he  is  permitted  to  give  in  his  own  words  the  content  of 
what  is  being  read,  and  to  describe  the  scene,  the  mood  of 
the  writer,  the  condition  of  mind  and  the  state  of  feelings 


VylG  ORAL  READING 

of  characters  who  speak,  or  who  are  described,  or  who  have 
a  place  in  tin*  ixH'iii  or  story.  Literature,  of  whatever  form 
it  may  be,  sliould  be  thouy;ht  of  and  presented  as  a  record 
of  the  thought  and  experience  of  living  men,  and  not  as  a 
mere  conventional  arrangement  of  words. 

Chapter  VIII 

Vocal  Quality 

In  the  chapter  on  "  Vocal  Quality  "  a  brief  consideration 
of  abnormal  qualities  of  tone  has  been  offered  rather  for 
the  purpose  of  exjilaining  peculiar  action  and  use  of  the 
voice  than  to  encourage  students  in  an  extended  practice 
of  impure  qualities  as  such.  The  student's  first  effort  should 
be  given  to  the  acquisition  of  a  free,  natural  use  of  the 
vocal  instrument.  Whenever,  in  the  oral  rendering  of  liter- 
ature, it  becomes  necessary  to  express  such  thoughts  and 
emotions  as  demand  extraordinary  use  of  the  voice,  the 
student  will  do  well  to  give  his  attention  to  the  sense  and 
spirit  of  the  lines  rather  than  to  a  conscious  effort  to  ac- 
quire a  peculiar  style  of  utterance.  This  suggestion  applies 
with  equal  force  to  the  study  of  all  phases  of  reading  aloud. 
The  reader  is  not  an  actor.  It  is  the  reader's  duty  to  sug- 
gest rather  than  portray  character.  If  the  voice  is  obedient, 
extreme  and  abnormal  emotions,  when  they  are  understood 
and  felt,  will  be  intimated  in  tone  quality  and  that  is  all 
that  should  be  attempted.  The  harshness  of  Shylock's  char- 
acter will  make  itself  evident  in  the  voice.  The  demands 
made  upon  the  actor,  however,  are  more  severe.  He  must 
be  and  live  the  character  before  the  audience.  For  him  the 
command  of  all  abnormal  qualities  of  voice  is  necessary. 
If,  for  example,  he  enact  Adam,  in  As  You  Like  It,  he 
must  assume  a  voice  suited  to  that  aged  character,  a  voice ' 
thin,  tremulous,  weak.  In  the  portrayal  of  such  eccentric 


SUGGESTIONS  REGARDING  CHAPTERS         327 

individuals  as  the  Gobbos  of  the  Merchant  of  Venice^  he 
may  seek  humorous  effects  in  a  voice  which  breaks  from  an 
ordinary  key  and  pitch  into  high  falsetto  and  piping  tones. 
The  reader  may  give  a  hint  of  these  peculiarities,  but  no 
more  than  that.  The  acquisition  of  a  voice  suited  to  the 
realistic  portrayal  of  eccentric  characters,  or  to  the  occa- 
sional intense  and  abnormal  emotions  of  normal  men,  such 
as  Macbeth  and  Brutus,  is  partly  a  matter  of  imitation  and 
experiment  and  partly  of  sympathetic  adaptation  to  the 
attitude  of  mind  and  mood  of  the  individual  under  certain 
conditions.  One  who  has  witnessed  a  good  actor  in  the 
scene  where  the  ghost  of  Csesar  appears  to  Brutus  in  his 
tent  at  night  will  readily  understand  this.  The  sympathetic 
reader  may  suggest  the  surprise,  bewilderment,  and  alarm 
of  Brutus;  the  actor  must  do  more.  He  must  give  full 
utterance  and  action  to  these  emotions.  For  the  time  he 
must  live  Brutus.  Since  this  phase  of  expression  is  con- 
cerned more  with  the  art  of  the  actor  than  with  that  of  the 
reader,  it  has  not  been  deemed  desirable  to  devote  more 
space  than  has  already  been  given  in  the  text  to  a  discus- 
sion of  abnormal  qualities  of  voice. 

Chapter  IX 

The  Music  of  Speech 

The  difficulty  of  teaching  the  melody  of  speech  is  obvi- 
ous. Indeed,  strictly  speaking,  it  cannot  be  taught.  Only 
as  taste,  appreciation,  and  musical  sense  are  educated,  will 
musical  qualities  appear  in  speech.  The  teacher  may  do 
much  toward  educating  spiritual  responsiveness  and  train- 
ing the  inner  ear  in  the  natural  melody  of  speech  by  sym- 
pathetic vocal  rendering  of  musical  verse  and  prose.  The 
need  of  such  education  is  as  great  as  are  the  difficulties  it 
presents. 


S-28  ORAL   READING 

Chapter  X 
Technical  Princ'qdes  of  Speech 

That  so  little  attention  is  paid  to  the  use  of  the  voice,  in 
either  our  homes  or  our  schools,  is  a  deplorable  deficiency 
in  our  education.  Our  children  may  speak  in  piping,  shrill, 
rasping  tones,  and  may  go  on  speaking  that  way  until  they 
reach  maturity,  and  little  is  said  or  done  about  it.  A  la- 
mentable feature  is  that  there  appears  to  belittle  likelihood 
of  improvement  with  the  next  generation.  The  young  are 
inheritors  of  our  vocal  delinquencies.  They  learn  to  pitch 
and  manage  their  voices  largely  by  imitating  their  elders 
and  their  associates,  and  we  are  passing  on  to  them,  not 
only  our  bad  habits,  but  also  our  indifference  to  the  value 
and  charm  of  well  modulated  speech.  Were  our  children 
to  hear  better  voices  in  home  and  school,  the  next  genera- 
tion would  not  incur  the  censure  of  cultured  peojDle  of  other 
nations  who  value  excellent  speech  more  than  we  do. 

Though  it  may  not  be  possible,  under  existing  condi- 
tions in  our  schools,  to  carry  out  any  very  extended  pro- 
gram of  voice  work,  something  at  least  shoidd  be  done  in 
connection  with  reading  lessons,  and  possibly  with  certain 
classes  in  English,  to  help  the  student  to  a  better  knowl- 
edge of  the  use  of  his  own  voice,  and  to  render  him  more 
sensitive  to  the  difference  between  well-used  and  badly-used 
voices. 

Chapter  XI 

Training  the  Voice 

Whenever  practicable,  a  few  minutes  should  be  devoted 
to  vocal  and  breatliing  exercises  throughout  the  course,  pre- 
ferably at  the  beginning  of  the  recitation  period.  If  five  or 
ten  minutes  are  spent  on  vocal  drill  in  alternate  class  hours, 


SUGGESTIONS  REGARDING  CHAPTERS        329 

the  interest  may  be  sustained  better  than  when  the  drills 
are  insisted  on  at  every  recitation.  The  various  breathing 
exercises  and  vocal  drills  should  be  reviewed  at  frequent 
intervals.  Good  use  of  voice  does  not  depend  on  a  great 
number  of  exercises  but  on  a  few  thoroughly  mastered  and 
persistently  practiced. 

The  teacher  should  take  the  exercises  with  the  students 
and  should  have  them  so  well  in  mind  that  no  reference  to 
the  text  is  necessary. 

Chapter  XII 

Enunciation  and  Pronunciation 

Even  though  the  classroom  may  afford  but  a  limited  op- 
portunity for  vocal  training,  this  objection  does  not  hold 
against  practice  for  the  attainment  of  clear  and  pleasing 
enunciation.  Every  recitation  and  reading  lesson  offers 
occasion  for  some  kind  of  discipline  in  careful  speech.  In- 
stead of  the  familiar  admonition,  "  Speak  a  little  louder, 
please,"  the  student,  whose  speech  is  faulty  and  indistinct, 
should  have  the  difficulty  and  the  remedy  pointed  out  to 
him.  If  vowels  or  consonants  are  inaccurately  formed,  the 
aid  of  a  teacher  is  more  valuable  than  printed  directions. 
Showing  the  student  how  the  organs  of  speech  are  placed 
for  making  certain  sounds,  like  I  or  r,  when  this  instruction 
is  coupled  with  practice  in  making  the  sounds,  is  usually 
productive  of  good  results.  Habits  of  correct  and  distinct 
speech  are  acquired  only  by  persistent  effort. 


III.    PROGRAM   OF  RECITATIONS   AND 
ASSIGNMENTS 

In  offering  the  following  program  the  author  does  not  as- 
sume that  it  is  adapted  to  all  circumstances  and  conditions. 
Perhaps  few  teachers  will  find  strict  adherence  to  the  plan 
here  outlined  practicable.  The  time  devoted  to  the  subject, 
the  size  and  chai'acter  of  the  class,  the  teacher's  own  views 
and  purposes,  are  all  factors  in  determining  the  method 
of  conducting  the  work  and  the  nature  and  the  length  of 
assignments.  The  program  has  been  prepared  in  the  hope 
that  it  may  afford  suggestions  and  help  the  teacher  in  plan- 
ning the  work  of  a  class  in  oral  reading  meeting  twice  a 
week  throughout  the  year. 

Possibly  the  program  will  prove  valuable  chiefly  in 
showing  that  lessons  in  expressive  reading  and  speech  may 
be  assigned  with  as  much  definiteness  as  in  any  other  sub- 
ject and  that  the  Handbook  contains  plenty  of  material  for 
a  full  year's  course. 

Some  assignments  may  prove  to  be  too  long  for  certain 
classes.  If  the  assignment  is  concerned  with  problems  in 
reading  and  involves  too  much  work,  time  may  be  saved 
and  better  preparation  insured  by  apportioning  certain 
problems  to  different  members  or  sections  of  the  class. 
Whenever  the  program  does  not  seem  to  be  suited  to  a  par- 
ticular case  or  class,  the  teacher  should  follow  the  needs 
and  best  interest  of  the  students,  not  the  program. 

Occasional  papers  in  which  pi-oblems  and  selections  are 
analyzed,  paraphrased,  or  criticized,  and  certain  principles 
and  chapters  are  discussed,  may  be  found  worth  while. 
Such  assignments  have  been  sparingly  made  in  the  pro* 


PROGRAM  OF   RECITATIONS  331 

gram,  since  the  need  of  them  and  their  character  and  fre- 
quency, will  depend  largely  on  the  conditions  under  which 
the  work  is  carried  on. 

No  mention  of  conferences  has  been  made  for  the  reason 
that  provision  for  them  is  wholly  optional  with  the  teacher. 
But  whenever  possible,  personal  conferences  with  students 
should  be  arranged  for  as  frequently  as  conditions  and  time 
permit.  Such  conferences  should  be  devoted  principally  to 
breathing  and  voice,  especially  in  the  early  part  of  the 
course,  and  to  such  problems  and  exercises  in  reading  aloud 
as,  in  the  judgment  of  the  teacher,  are  suited  to  the  needs 
of  the  individual  and  will  best  serve  to  strengthen  him  at 
his  weak  points  and  helja  him  to  overcome  faults  and  man- 
nerisms. 

Breathing  and  vocal  exercises  should  also  form  a  part  of 
the  class  work  whenever  practicable.  Assignments,  cover- 
ing Part  III  of  the  Handbook,,  have  been  included  in  the 
program.  Five  or  ten  minutes  should  be  given  to  vocal  ex- 
ercises in  concert,  preferably  at  the  beginning  of  the  reci- 
tation period  of  alternate  meetings. 

Principles  involved  in  the  assignment  of  problems  in 
the  program  are  referred  to  by  sections. 

Introduction 
I.  Recitation:  The  instructor  explains  briefly  the  nature 
and  purpose  of  the  work.  An  interesting  narrative,  not  too 
diflBcult  for  sight  reading,  may  be  provided  for  reading 
aloud,  each  student  being  called  on  to  read  twenty  lines  or 
more  at  sight.  Irving's  Legend  of  Sleepy  Hollow  (pp.  23- 
29)  affords  good  material  for  such  exercise.  If  preferred, 
the  instructor  may  occupy  the  hour  in  reading  to  the  class. 
Assignment:  Study  the  Introduction  (pp.  1-11)  and  write 
a  brief  synopsis  of  it  to  be  handed  in  at  the  next  meeting. 
Prepare  one  or  two  minute  talks  on  some  topic  relating  to 
oral  expression  suggested  by  the  Introduction. 


3.S2  ORAL  READING 

2.  Recitation:  Brief  talks  on  Introduction,  followed  by 
general  discussion.   Ci)ntinne  siglit  reading. 

Assi'/ni/u'/it :  Twenty-live  or  thirty  lines,  selected  by 
the  student,  from  a  favorite  story,  to  be  read  aloud  before  the 
class,  the  reading  to  be  jirecedcd  by  a  brief  account  of  the 
author,  the  story,  and  such  explanation  as  may  be  necessary 
to  make  the  reading  clear  and  interesting.  See  sections  2,  3 
(pp.  1(>-17). 

3.  Recitation :  Readings  with  introductory  comments.  Stu- 
dents should  stand  before  the  class  for  this  work. 

Assignvient:  Study  Chapter  I  (pp.  15-23)  and  be  pre- 
pared to  discuss  in  brief  talks  any  of  the  sections  of  the 
chapter.  Bring  sentences  illustrating  change  in  meaning 
brouglit  about  by  change  in  the  manner  of  speaking  sen- 
tences (section  i,  pp.  15-16).  Also  bring  sentences  showing 
how  the  intended  meaning  may  be  perverted  by  wrong  utter- 
ance (section  4,  pp.  18-21). 

Chapter  I 

4.  Recitation :  Brief  talks  on  Chapter  I,  and  general  discus- 
sion. Read  sentences  illustrating  effect  of  utterance  on  their 
meaning. 

Assignment :  Certain  members  of  class  to  prepare  short 
talks  on  topics  relating  to  life  and  work  of  Irving :  e.g. 
(1)  an  account  of  his  life ;  (2)  the  time  in  which  he  lived  ; 
(3)  his  interests ;  (4)  his  publications ;  (5)  a  personal  de- 
scription of  him.  Members  to  whom  no  topics  are  assigned 
prepare  orally  the  adaptation  of  the  Legend  of  Sleepy  Hol- 
low (pp.  23-29)  for  class  reading. 
6.  Recitation :  Talks  on  Irving.  Reading  from  the  Legetid. 
In  the  reading  the  student  may  assume  that  the  story  is  his 
own  and  that  he  is  telling  it  to  a  group  of  friends. 

Assignment :  Review  sections  3,  4,  5,  6  (pp.  17-23)  and 
apply  the  suggestions  to  the  further  oral  study  of  the  Legend. 
(Preparation  should  be  so  thorough  as  to  enable  the  stu- 
dents to  read  the  lines  with  conversational  naturalness  and 
directness  and  with  eyes  frequently  lifted  from  the  book.) 
Study  Chapter  X,  sections  42,  43  (pp.  281-85)  and  write 
a  brief  summary  of  it  to  hand  in. 


PROGRAM   OF   RECITATIONS  333 

6.  Recitation  :  Ten-minute  discussion  of  Chapter  X,  section 
42,  43.  Finish  reading  the  Legend.  Imj^rom^^tu  discussion 
of  the  story  for  elements  of  interest,  style,  humor,  imagery, 
characters. 

Assignment:  Study  Chapter  II  (pp.  30-37).  Practice 
aloud  all  illustrations  and  be  prepared  to  explain  the  phases 
of  the  subject  they  illustrate.  Study  Chapter  XI,  sections 
46,  47,  I,  (pp.  289-92).  Practice  at  home  breathing  exer^ 
cises  1,  2,  3  (pp.  292-93). 

Chapter  II 

7.  Recitation:  Five  minutes  for  breathing  exercises  5,  a, 
b  (p.  293).  Discussion  of  Chapter  II  followed  by  reading  of 
ilrustrations. 

Assignment :  Bring  passages  from  prose  or  poetry  illus- 
trating lack  of  correspondence  between  punctuation  and 
grouping.  These  should  be  written  out  to  hand  in.  Prepare 
problems  1-16  (pp.  37^0),  guarding  against  the  danger  of 
being  misled  by  punctuation  marks  or  the  lack  of  them. 
'Section  8,  2,  3,  pp.  33-37.) 
S.  Recitation:  Five  minutes  for  breathing  exercise  4  (p. 
293).  Reading  of  passages  illustrating  lack  of  coincidence 
of  punctuation  and  pauses  for  thought,  followed  by  reading 
and  discussion  of  problems  1-16. 

Assignment :  Prepare  problems  17-21  with  special  atten- 
tion to  change  of  pitch  between  ideas  and  images  (section 
7,  2,  p.  31).  Memorize  problems  19  and  20. 
9.  Recitation:  Five  minutes  for  deep  breathing  exercises, 
5,  (pp.  293-94).  Reading  and  discussion  of  problems  17— 
21,  with  particular  emphasis  on  change  of  pitch  and  conver- 
Bational  variety. 

Assignment:  Prepare  problems  22-25.  Give  attention 
to  smoothness  of  utterance  of  words  within  groups  (section 
7,  3,  pp.  32-33)  and  to  regular,  easy  taking  of  breath  at 
pauses.  (Section  8,  i,  pp.  33-34.) 
10 .  Recitation :  Five  minutes  for  general  breathing  exercises. 
Reading  and  discussion  of  problems  22-25,  witli  particular 
attention  to  coordination  of  tliinking  and  breathing. 

Assignment :  Prepare  problems  26-27  for  clear,  spirited 


8S4  ORAL  READING 

utterance  of  the  thought.    Memorize  The  FooVs  Prayer 
(lu-oblem  2G). 

11.  Iiccitation  :  Road  problems  26-27  with  little  or  no  ref- 
erence to  principles  of  grou})ing  mentioned  in  text  bnt  with 
entire  attention  given  to  expression  of  the  thought  of  the 
selections. 

Assignment :  Study  Chapter  III  (pp.  51-61).  Practice 
aloud  all  examples  until  the  principle  they  illustrate  is  re- 
vealed in  the  reading.  Be  prepared  to  explain  the  different 
sections  of  the  chapter. 

Chapter  III 

12.  Recitation :  Five  minutes  for  deep  breathing  exercises. 
Recitation  on  Chapter  III  with  reading  of  illustrations 
given  in  text. 

Assignment :  Prepare  orally  problems  1-13.  Students 
to  bring  in  sentences  of  their  own  choosing  to  illustrate  rela- 
tive word  values.  (Section  ii,  pp.  53-55.)  These  may  be 
written  out  to  be  handed  in,  with  change  of  pitch  and  inflec- 
tion indicated  as  in  text.  Study  vocal  exercises  6,  7,  8,  (pp. 
294-95). 

13.  Recitation:  Ten  minutes  for  vocal  exercises  (6,  7,  8). 
Reading  and  discussion  of  problems  1—13,  followed  by  read- 
ing of  illustrations  selected  by  students. 

Assignment :  Prepare  oi'ally  problems  14-24.  Bring 
sentences,  written  out,  to  illustrate  phrase  and  clause  rela- 
tions (section  12,  pp.  55-57).  Study  vocal  exercises  9,  10 
(p.  295).  ,       ^  . 

14.  Recitation :  Ten  minutes  for  deep  breathing  and  exercises 
9,  10.  Reading  and  discussion  of  problems  14-24,  followed 
by  reading  of  illustrations  selected  by  students. 

Assignment :  Prepare  orally  problems  25-34.  Bring  sen- 
tences, written  out  to  hand  in,  illustrating  subordination ; 
also  examples  of  clauses  interrupted  by  subordinate  or  ex- 
planatory phrases  (section  13,  pp.  57-59).  Practice  vocal 
exercise  11  (p.  295). 

15.  Recitation:  Five  to  ten  minutes  for  vocal  exercise  11. 
Reading  of  problems  25-34  with  discussion,  followed  by 
illusti-ations  selected  by  students. 


PROGRAM  OF   RECITATIONS  835 

Assignment :  Prepare  orally  problems  35-42.  Bring  in 
^jentences  illustrating  contrast  and  comparison.  (Section 
(4,  pp.  59-60.) 

16  Recitation :  Five  to  ten  minutes  in  review  of  vocal  exer- 
cises for  ease  of  the  throat  (pp.  294-95).  Reading  of  prob- 
lems 35-42  and  of  illustrations  selected  by  students. 

Assignment :  Prepare  orally  the  adaptation  of  The  Man 
Without  a  Country  (problem  43,)  for  general  class  reading. 
Read  paragraph  on  clearness  of  tone  and  practice  vocal 
exercises  12  and  13  (pp.  295-96). 

Vk  Recitation :  Five  to  ten  minutes  for  deep  breathing  and 
vocal  exercises  12  and  13.  Reading  of  The  Man  Without 
a  Country.  This  to  be  read,  not  as  an  example  of  any  prin- 
ciple explained  in  tiie  chapter,  but  witli  attention  wholly  to 
the  thought. 

Assignment:  Study  Chapter  IV  (pp.  83-88).  Practice  the 
illustrations  and  be  prepared  to  explain  the  principles  they 
illustrate.  Prepare  outline  of  five-minute  talks  on  subjects 
of  local  or  current  public  interest,  —  these  to  be  handed  in 
at  the  next  meeting. 

Chapter  IV 

18.  Recitation :  Discussion  of  Chapter  IV,  with  reading  of 
illustrations  given  in  text.  Speech  outlines  to  be  returned 
with  criticisms  on  subject-matter  and  organization. 

Assignment :  Speech  outlines  to  be  revised  if  necessary, 
and  speeches  to  be  prepared  for  next  meeting. 

19.  Recitation :  Five-minute  talks  without  notes,  particular 
attention  being  given  to  pitch  variation  and  conversational 
directness. 

Assignment :  Write  a  paper  on  the  relation  of  conversa- 
tion and  reading  aloud. 

20.  Recitation  :  Five-minute  talks  continued. 
Assignment:  Prepare  problems  1-20  with  special  atten- 
tion to  the  clear  expression  of  meaning  by  well  centered 
emphasis.  First,  read  the  problems  aloud  and  note  how 
ideas  are  made  clear  by  inflection  and  change  of  pitch  ;  read 
them  again  and  observe  prolongation  of  emphatic  vowels; 
read  them  once  more  for  examples  of  emphasis  by  pause. 


S36  ORAL  READING 

Brinj:^  sentences,  written  out,  illustrating  emphasis  by  pauae 
(section  17,  I,  p.  84).  Practice  vocal  exercises  14,  15, 
IG  (pp.  2i)G-97). 

21.  Tl'h  minutes  for  vocal  exercises  14,  15,  IG.  Reading  and 
discussion  of  problems  1-20.  Road  also  sentences  chosen  by 
students  to  illustrate  emphatic  pause. 

Assiynment :  Prepare  problems  21-27  as  in  previous  as- 
signment. 

22.  Kecitatlon  :  Ten  minutes  for  all  vocal  exercises  for  clear- 
ness of  tone  (pp.  296-97).  Reading  and  discussion  of  prob- 
lems 21-27. 

Assignment :  Prepare  The  Gift  of  the  Magi  (problem 
28)  for  general  class  reading. 

23.  Recitation :  Ten  minutes  for  general  vocal  exercises. 
Reading  of  The  Gift  of  the  3Iagi  for  naturalness  and  en- 
joyment and  with  no  reference  to  technical  problems  in- 
volved. 

Assignment :  Review  Chapters  I-IV  and  prepare  a  pajier 
on  the  influence  of  thought  on  utterance.  Prepare  to  relate 
in  your  own  words  an  incident  regarding  an  inappropriate 
Christmas  gift. 

24.  Recitation  :  Talks  on  Christmas  gifts. 

Assignment :  Study  Chapter  V,  and  be  prepared  to  speak 
briefly  on  any  section  of  it.  Bring  ten  or  fifteen  lines  from 
some  stirring  poem,  stoiy,  or  oration,  and  a  few  lines  from 
some  matter-of-fact  exposition,  to  read  to  the  class.  Explain 
differences  in  the  style  of  reading  the  two  selections. 

Chapter  V 

25.  Recitation :  Brief  talks  on  Chapter  V  followed  by  gen. 
eral  discussion  and  the  reading  of  selections  made  by  stu- 
dents to  illustrate  emotional  and  unemotional  utterance. 

Assignment :  Select  and  prepare  orally  some  short,  strong 
poem,  or  stirring  portion  of  an  oration  or  story,  for  class 
reading.  Study  paragraph  on  resonance  and  fullness  of  tone 
(pp.  297-98)  and  try  vocal  exercises  17-18. 

26.  Recitation :  Discussion  of  resonance  and  practice  of  vocal 
exercises  18.  Reading  of  spirited  selections. 

Assignment :  Prepare  orally  the  Legend  of  Sleepy  Hollow 


PROGRAM   OF  RECITATIONS  337 

(pp.  116-23).  Write  a  paper  showing  the  difference  in  spirit 
between  tiiis  part  of  the  story  and  that  given  in  Chapter  I, 
and  explain  any  difference  in  the  reading  of  the  two  parts. 

27.  Recitation:  Exercises  in  deep  breathing;  repeat  18.  Read- 
ing of  the  Legend  for  vividness,  atmosphere,  and  mood. 

Assignment :  Prepare  to  recount  some  narrow  esca])e  or 
some  exciting  or  amusing  personal  experience.  Study  and 
practice  vocal  exercises  19-20  (pp.  298-99). 

28.  Recitation :  Vocal  exercises  19-20.  Short  talks  on  per- 
sonal experiences. 

Assignment :  Study  Chapter  VI  and  prepare  the  exam- 
ples so  that  the  reading  of  them  illustrates  the  principles 
they  represent. 

Chapter  VI 

29.  Recitation :  Discussion  of  Chapter  VI  and  reading  of 
illustrative  selections. 

Assignvie7it :  Study  ])roblems  1-6  and  be  ready  to  explain 
why  the  tone  varies  in  intensity  in  reading  the  different  se- 
lections. (Section  28,  pp.  124-29.)  Begin  memorizing  prob- 
lems 2,  3,  7,  9.   Practice  vocal  exercises  21-22  (p.  299). 

30.  Recitation :  Vocal  exercises  21-22.  Reading  aloud  and 
discussion  of  problems  1-6,  for  vocal  energy  and  intensity 
without  undue  loudness. 

Assignment :  Study  problems  7-9.  Finish  memorizing 
2,  3,  7,  9. 

31.  Recitation :  Reading  of  problem  8  and  recitation  of  mem- 
orized selections  for  intensity  and  impressiveness  of  utter- 
ance. 

Assignment :  Study  problems  10-12  (section  28,  i,  h,  p 
127).  Memorize  problem  10. 

32.  Recitation:  Review  exercises  for  resonance  (pp.  298-99) 
Reading  of  problems  10-12  for  quiet,  resonant  and  feeling 
utterance. 

Assignment:  Study  problem  13  for  conversational  ex- 
pression. (Section  28,  i,c,  pp.  127-28.)  Prepare  a  short  talk 
telling  how  some  machine  is  made,  or  some  i)articular  kind 
of  work  is  done.  Study  paragrajjh  on  range  and  flexibility 
and  practice  exercise  23  (pp.  299-300). 


3J8  ORAL  RE/\X>ING 

33.  Recitation:  Discussion  of  flexibility  of  voice,  and  testing 
of  sensitiveness  of  ear  to  pitch  changes.  Reading  of  })robleni 
13  for  conversational  naturahiess  and  energy,  followed  by 
short  expository  talks. 

Asshjnment:  Study  problems  14—19  (section  28,  i,  d,  p. 
128).  Begin  menxoiiziiig  19.  Practice  vocal  exercises  24-25 
(pp.  300-01).  Spend  ten  minutes  on  them. 

34.  Recitation:  Vocal  exercises  24-25.  Finish  short  talks 
and  read  problems  14-19.  Write  out  19  from  memory. 

Assignment :  Study  problems  20-24  (section  28,  3,  a,  b, 
pp.  131-33).  Memorize  problem  20.  Try  vocal  exercises 
26-27  (p.  301). 

35.  Recitation:  Vocal  exercises  26-27.  Reading  of  problems 
20-24.  Write  out  20  from  memory. 

Assignment :  Study  problems  25-26  (section  28,  3,  c, 
pp.  133-34).  Underline  words  in  which  the  stress  is  par- 
ticularly marked.  Bring  illustrations,  chosen  outside  the  text, 
and  written  out,  of  median  and  final  stress.  Underline  words 
on  which  the  stress  is  most  noticeable. 

36.  Recitation:  Reading  of  i:)roblems  25-26,  and  of  exam- 
ples of  median  and  final  stress  brought  in  by  students. 

Assignment :  Study  selection  from  The  Christmas  Carol 
(problem  27).  Begin  memorizing  At  the  End  of  the  Day 
(problem  28).  Practice  vocal  exercise  28.  (See  problem  13, 
p.  63.) 

37.  Recitation :  Practice  vocal  exercise  28  (problem  13,  p. 
63).  Reading  of  selection  from  The  Christmas  Carol  for 
enjoyment  and  spontaneous  expression  with  little  or  no  ref- 
erence to  any  technical  matters  involved. 

Assignment :  Continue  study  of  selection  from  The 
Christmas  Carol  and  finish  memorizing  At  the  End  of  the 

Day- 

38.  Recitation :  Review  vocal  exercises  for  flexibility  (pp. 
300-01).  Finish  reading  problem  27.  Class  write  At  the 
End  of  the  Day  from  memory,  after  which  several  members 
may  recite  the  poem  to  the  class. 

Assignment:  Study  Chapter  VII  to  section  33  (pp. 
161-71).  Prepare  orally  all  examples  so  that  the  point  of  the 
section  they  stand  under  will  be  illustrated  in  the  reading. 


PROGRAM  OF  RECITATIONS  339 

Chapter  VII 

39.  Recitation :  Discussion  of  portion  of  Chapter  VII  as- 
signed and  rea(lin<4  of  examples. 

Assignment :  Finish  Chajiter  VII,  prepare  the  examples 
given  in  the  text,  and  hring  written  illustrations,  chosen  out- 
side the  text,  of  fast,  medium,  and  slow  time. 

40.  Recitation :  Practice  in  concert  the  first  two  stanzas  of 
The  Rising  (p.  302)  for  rhythmic  breathing,  purity,  reso- 
nance, and  fullness  of  tone.  Continue  discussion  of  Chap- 
ter VII.  Reading  of  examples  in  text  and  of  illustrations 
brought  by  students. 

Assignment:  Study  problems  1-4  (section  31,  i,  p. 
162.)  Prepare  a  short  paper  explaining  the  difference  be- 
tween rhytliniic  beat  and  emphasis,  in  reading  prose  and 
poetry. 

41.  Recitation:  Reading  of  problems  1-4. 

Assignment :  Study  problems  5-14  (section  32,  pp.  163- 
69).  Bring  illustrations,  written  out  to  hand  in,  of  regular 
and  irregular  verse.  Memorize  problems  10,  12,  13,  14. 

42.  Recitation :  Practice  in  concert  stanzas  three  and  four 
of  The  Rising  (p.  302)  for  pure  tone  and  quiet,  resonant 
utterance.  Reading  of  problems  5-14. 

Assignment:  Prepare  problems  15-21  (section  32,  2, 
pp.  169-71).  Bring  in  illustrations,  written  out,  of  "run 
on  "  lines,  and  explain  briefly  in  the  same  paper  how  the 
reading  of  "  run  on  "  lines  differs  from  that  of  "  end  stopt," 
or  regular,  lines. 

43.  Recitation :  Reading  of  problems  15-21.  Recitation  by 
certain  members  of  the  class  of  problems  10,  12,  13, 14. 

Assignvient :  Prepare  problems  22-26  (section  33,  i, 
p.  173).  Memorize  the  Recessional  (problem  26). 

44.  Recitation :  Practice  in  concert  stanzas  five  and  six  of 
The  Rising,  (p.  303)  for  sustained  tone,  variety  in  pitch, 
and  time.  Reading  of  problems  22-26.  Continue  recitation 
of  problems  10,  12,  13,  14. 

Assignment:  Study  problems  27-36  (section  33,  2,  3, 
pp.  174-75). 

45.  Recitation :  Reading  of  problems  27-36.  Write  out  the 


340  ORAL  RE.U>ING 

Recessional  from  memory;  follow  with  recitation  of  the  poem 
by  certain  inejiibers  of  the  class. 

Assujument :  Study  The  Pied  Piper  of  Hamelin  (prob 
lem  -M). 

46.  Recitation  :  Reading  of  The  Pied  Piper  of  Hamelin  for 
enjoyment  and  spirited  utterance  of  the  poem  and  with  little 
or  no  discussion  of  rhythm  or  of  technical  problems  in- 
volved. 

Assignment:  Each  student  to  prepare  a  short  talk  on 
some  legend,  such,  for  example,  as  The  Pied  Piper  is  based 
upon. 

47.  Recitation :  Finish  reading  The  Pied  Piper  and  begin 
talks  on  legends. 

Assignment :  Review  orally  all  memorized  problems  in 
Chapter  VII. 

48.  Recitation:  Finish  talks  on  legends.  Recitation  of  mem- 
orized ])roblems  of  chapter. 

Assign7nent:  Study  Chapter  VIII.  Prepare  all  exam- 
ples and  be  ready  to  explain  the  principles  they  illustrate. 

CJt^pter  VIII 

49.  Recitation :  Practice  in  concert  stanzas  seven  and  eight 
of  The  Rising  for  breatli  control,  energy,  rhythm,  and  vocal 
quality.  Discussion  of  Chapter  VIII  with  reading  of  exam- 
ples. The  recitation  may  take  the  form  of  short  extempora- 
neous talks  on  the  various  sections  and  topics  of  the  chapter. 

Assignment :  Prepare  ])roblems  1-5  (sections  38,  I,  1,  2, 
pp.  206-09).   Begin  memorizing  Columb^is  (problem  6). 

50.  Recitation :  Practice  in  concert  the  last  three  stanzas  of 
The  Rising.  Reading  of  problems  1-5. 

Assignment :  Prepare  problems  7-9  (section  38, 1,  3,  pp. 
209-10).  Finish  memorizing  Columhus. 

51.  i^ectVa^io/i;  Reading  of  problems  7-9.  Columhus  vfYitien 
out  from  memory.  Several  members  of  class  called  to  recite 
the  poem. 

Assigtiment :  Prepare  problems  10-1.3  (section  38,  i,  4, 
p.  210).   Study  sections  44,  45  (pp.  285-88)  and  48  (p-  305). 

52.  Recitation:  Discussion  of  sections  44,  45,  48.  Reading  of 
problems  10-13. 


PROGRAM   OF   RECITATIONS  3^1 

Assignment :  Prepare  problems  14-16  (section  38,  2,  pp. 
211—13).  Students  not  familiar  with  Macbeth  should  read 
the  play  in  jjreparation  for  the  scenes  from  it.  Practice  pro- 
nouncing the  words  listed  under  section  48,  I. 

63.  Recitation:  Practice,  in  concert,  the  words  listed  under 
48,  I.  Reading  of  jiroblems  14-16.  Parts  may  be  assigned 
for  problems  15  and  16. 

Assignment :  Prepare  the  scene  from  The  Rivals  (prob- 
lem 17).  Several  members  of  the  class  may  prepare  five- 
minute  talks  on  subjects  relating  to  Sheridan,  e.g.  (1)  a  brief 
account  of  his  life ;  (2)  his  plays ;  (3)  his  other  activities ; 
(4)  cliaracters  in  The  Rivals. 

54.  Recitation :  Short  talks  on  Sheridan  and  his  work. 
Reading  of  scene  from  The  Rivals.  Parts  niay  be  assigned, 
if  practicable,  and  the  sce'ae  enacted  several  times  by  differ- 
ent members  of  the  class. 

Assignment :  Study  Chapter  IX,  prepare  examples  so 
that  the  principles  they  illustrate  will  be  evident  in  the  read- 
ing. Bring  list  of  words,  written  out  to  hand  in,  offering 
some  difficulty  and  requiring  care  in  enunciation. 

Chapter  IX 

65.  Recitation :  Discussion  of  lists  of  words  submitted  as 
exercises  in  enunciation.  Recitation  on  Chapter  IX  with 
reading  of  examples  and  discussion  of  them  in  relation  to 
the  principles  they  illustrate. 

Assignment :  Prepare  problems  1-3  (section  40,  2,  3, 
pp.  241-48).  Write  a  synojisis  of  some  poem  and  be  pre- 
pared to  read  the  synopsis  and  the  poem  to  illustrate  the 
difference  between  unemotional  and  emotional  speech. 

66.  Recitation  :  Reading  of  problems  1-3  and  illustrations 
brought  by  members  of  the  class. 

Assignment :  Prepare  problems  4-6  (section  40,  1,  c,  p. 
239).  Bring  prose  selection  of  about  ten  lines  as  an  exercise 
in  enunciation,  giving  particular  attention  to  section  48,  2, 
p.  308.) 
57.  Recitation  :  Exercises  in  action  of  tongue  and  lips,  with 
reading  of  lines  brought  by  individual  students  as  exercises 
XD  enunciation.  Reading  of  problems  4-6.  Parts  for  scene 


842  ORAL  RE.VDIXG 

from  Hennj  IV  (problem  C)  may  be  assigned.  If  practica* 
ble  the  scene  may  be  repeated  by  different  members  of  the 
class. 

Assignment:  Study  problems  7-11.  Memorize  lines  from 
The  Mi'rvliant  of  Venice  (problem  10).  Read  section  48, 
3,  and  bring  list  of  words  commonly  mispronounced  with 
incorrect  and  correct  pronunciation  indicated. 

58.  Recitation :  Read,  in  concert,  the  lines  from  The  Passing 
of  Arthur  {\)\).  ?tlQ-W).  Reading  of  problems  7-11.  Prob- 
lem 10  to  be  written  out  in  class  from  memory.  Several 
members  called  on  to  recite  the  lines  to  the  class. 

Assignment :  Prepare  problems  12-13.  Memorize  The 
Burial  of  Moses  (problem  13). 

59.  Recitation :  Discussion  of  lists  of  words  commonly  mis- 
pronounced. Reading  of  problems  12-13,  with  special 
attention  to  grandeur  of  imagery  and  the  expression  of  it 
in  tone  and  time.  Members  of  class  called  on  to  recite  from 
memory  different  stanzas  of  The  Bnrial  of  Moses. 

Assignment:  Prepare  problems  14-16  (section  40,  2, 
pp.  241^44).  Bring,  written  out  to  hand  in,  a  list  of  words 
heard  mispronounced  within  the  last  twenty-four  hours. 

60.  Recitation:  Reading  of  problems  14-16. 
Assignment :   Prepare  problems    17-19   (section  40,   3, 

pp.  244^8).  Memorize  For  A'  That  (problem  19). 

61.  Recitation :  Read  in  concert  the  lines  from  Hamlet  (p. 
311)  for  distinctness  and  correctness.  Reading  of  problems 
17—19,  with  particular  attention  to  sustained  tone  and  firm, 
dignified,  inflectional  emphasis.  Members  of  class  called  on 
to  recite  from  memory  different  stanzas  of  For  A'  That. 

Assignment :  Prepare  The  Legend  Beautiful  (problem 
20). 

62.  Recitation :  Review  of  essential  principles  of  good  tone 
and  clear  speech.   Reading  of  The  Legend  Beautiful. 

Assignment :  Prepare  for  recitation  before  class  some 
selection  memorized  during  the  course. 

63.  Recitation  :  Recitation  of  memorized  selections. 
Assignment :  Review  of  text. 

64.  Recitation  :  Esamination. 


INDEX 


INDEX 


A'  That  and  A'  That,  For,  274-75. 

Ahou  Ben  Adhem,  41-42. 

Addison,  Joseph,  Hymn,  138-39. 

Address  at  His  Brother's  Funeral 
(Ingersoll),  188. 

Address  on  Abraham  Lincoln,  39. 

Affectation,  cause  of,  in  elocution, 
7;  ineffectiveness  of,  107-08. 

Alexander,  Mrs.  C.  F.,  The  Burial  of 
Moses,  264-66. 

American  Flag,  The,  135. 

Analysis,  illustrations  of,  for  clear- 
ness, 19-20;  importance  of,  20-21. 

Antithesis,  how  expressed,  59. 

Antony  and  Cleopatra,  C8. 

Arnold,  Edwin,  The  Suallows,  194. 

Arnold,  George,  The  Jolly  Old  Peda- 
gogue, 225-26. 

Arnold,  iVIatthew,  Sweetness  and 
Light,  189. 

Assignments,  program  of,  330-42. 

As  You  Like  It,  94;  224-25. 

At  the  End  of  the  Day,  159-60. 

Attention,  necessity  of,  in  reading, 
21 ;  and  force,  106. 

Autocrat  of  the  Breakfast  Table,  The, 
62;  95-96;  207-08;  283-84. 

Baedeker,  Switzerland,  252;  254. 
Bailey,  Philip  James,  Festus,  31. 
Ballad  of  the  Revenge,  The,  243. 
Bards  of  the  Bible.  216-17. 
Beeket,  71. 
Beecher,  Henry  Ward,  Address  on 

Abraham  Lincoln,  39;  Raising  the 

Flag  Over  Fori  Sumter,  70. 
Benson,  Arthur  C,  From  a  College 

Windoiv,  240. 
Bible,  /  Corinthians,  91 ;  Ecclesiastes, 

153-54;  Genesis,  133;     II     Peter, 

84;  Proverbs,  62;  Psalms,  141. 
Blaine,   James  G.,  Funeral  Oration 

on  Garfield,  236. 
Boswell,    James,    Life    of    Samuel 

Johnson,  38. 


Breath,  management  of,  291-52; 
exercises  for  control  of,  292-94. 

Breathes  there  the  man,  182. 

Breathing,  and  grouping,  33-34. 

Bridges,  Robert,  Washington,  45. 

Browne,  Thomas,  Religio  Medici, 
260. 

Browning,  Robert,  How  They 
Brought  the  Good  News  from  Ghent 
to  Aix,  131;  Cavalier  Tunes,  149; 
Rabbi  Ben  Ezra,  180;  Pippa 
Passes,  193-94;  The  Pied  Piper 
of  Hamelin,  196-202;  Saul,  210- 
11. 

Bryant,  William  Cullen,  Thanaiop- 
sis,  38;  The  Gh  I  wss  of  Nature,  128. 

Building  of  the  Ship,  The,  179-80. 

Bunyan,  John,  Pilgrim's  Progress, 
The,  177-79. 

Durial  of  Moses,  The.  2G1-66. 

Burial  of  Sir  John  Moore,  The,  186- 
87. 

Burns,  Robert,  For  A'  That  and  A' 
Thai,  274-75. 

Byron,  George  Gordon,  Childe  Har- 
old's Pilgrimage,  19;  68;  70;  89;  93; 
Manfred,  184-85;  The  Prisoner  of 
Chillon,  187;  Darkness,  210;  Son- 
net on  Chilton,  252-53. 

Cadence,  minor,  to  be  avoided,  250-- 

51. 
Call  of  the  Twentieth  Century,  The, 

214. 
Carlyle,    Thomas,    Sartor   Resartus, 

43;  Essay  on  Biography,  91;  Rou,s- 

seau,  94-95. 
Carruth,  William  Herbert,  Each  in 

His  Own  Tongue,  192-93. 
Catiline,  94. 
Cavalier  Tunes,  149. 
Change  of  pitch,  and  grouping,  31- 

32;  definition  of,  52;  as  a  means  of 

emphasis,  54;  in  relation  to  inllec- 

tion,  54. 


sto 


INDEX 


Character,  revealed  in  speech,  7-8; 
'iSH. 

Charge  of  the  Heavy  Brigade,  The, 
Ki.-). 

Cliathain,  Earl  of.  Speech  on  Ameri- 
can Ajfaim,  (it ;  91. 

Childe  iliirold's  Pilgrimage,  19;  C8; 
70;  89;  93. 

Chillon,  Sonnet  on,  252-53. 

Choate,  Joscj)h  II.,  Lincoln  as  a 
Lawyer  and  Orator,  07. 

Christmas  Carol,  A,  8-1;  8G;  157-59; 
221-23;  255-57. 

Clauses,  relation  of,  how  shown,  55. 

Clearness  in  speech,  result  of  think- 
ing, 15;  17. 

Clough,  Arthur  Hugh,  Columbus, 
194. 

Coleridge,  Samuel  Taylor,  Hymn  to 
Mont  Blanc,  209;  254-55. 

Columbus  (Clough),  194. 

Columbus  (Miller),  217-18. 

Coming  of  Arthur,  The  (song  from), 
151. 

Community  of  Humorists,  A,  128. 

Completeness  of  thought,  how  shown, 
52;  55. 

Conduct,  184. 

Consonants,  effect  of,  on  melody  of 
speech,  52;  how  formed,  308;  clear 
enunciation  of,  308;  exercises  in 
enunciation  of,  309. 

Constitution  and  the  Union,  The,  65- 
66. 

Contrast  and  Comparison,  59. 

Control,  strength  in  self,  107-08. 

Conversation,  principles  of  reading 
and  speech  derived  from,  9-10; 
the  basis  of  naturalness  in  reading, 
22;  vocal  characteristics  of,  illus- 
trated, 22;  prevalent  faults  in, 
127;  qualities  of  voice  in,  207-08. 

Corinthians,  91. 

Criticism,  320. 

Crossing  the  Bar,  251. 

Crothers,  Samuel  McChord,  A  Com- 
munity of  Humorists,  128. 

Curtis,  George  William,  The  Leader- 
ship of  Edticated  Men,  176-77. 

Dante,  Alighieri,  The  Inferno,  36. 
Darkness,  210. 


Daybreak.  196. 

Dialect  in  Literature,  40. 

Diaphragm,  action  of,  in  speech,  291 
-92. 

Dickens,  (^'harles,  quotation  from, 
38;  A  Christmas  Carol,  84;  86; 
157-59;  221-23;  255-57;  Dumbey 
and  Son,  162;  Oliver  Twist,  226- 
28;  The  Pickwick  Papers,  40-41,' 
The  Uncommercial  Traveller,  93. 

Dickens  in  Camp,  36. 

Dissertation  on  Roast  Pig,  68. 

Dombey  and  Son,  162. 

Dowden,  Edward,  quotation  from 
New  Studies  in  Literature,  5-6. 

Downfall  and  Refuge  of  Ancient  Civ- 
ilization, 65. 

Drake,  Joseph  Rodman,  The  Ameri- 
ca7i  Flag,  135. 

Drifting,  269-71. 

Drummond,  Henry,  A  Talk  on  Books, 
63. 

Each  in  His  Own  Tongue,  192-93. 

Ecclesiastes,  153-54. 

Elegy  in  a  Country  Churchyard,  90; 
187. 

Eliot,  Charles  William,  Uses  of  Edu- 
cation for  Business,  72. 

Eliot,  George,  Silas  Marner,  35. 

Elocution,  affectation  in,  7;  preju- 
dice against,  108. 

Eloquence,  relation  of,  to  poetry, 
113-14. 

Emerson,  Ralph  Waldo,  Nature,  42; 
IVoodnotes,  66. 

Emotion,  relation  of  thought  to,  6- 
7;  in  literature,  105;  the  source  of 
impressive  speech,  106;  assumed, 
107;  hesitancy  to  express,  110-11; 
honest  expression  of,  commands 
respect.  111;  expressed  in  rhythm, 
161 ;  response  to,  in  reading  poetry, 
164;  influence  of,  on  inflection, 
244-48;  response  to,  318. 

Emphasis,  by  inflection,  53;  by 
change  of  pitch,  54;  cause  and  me- 
thods of,  83;  pause  as  a  means  of, 
84;  vocal  force  as  a  means  of,  85- 
86;  prolongation  of  vowels  as  a 
means  of,  86;  faults  in,  and  value 
of  study  of,  87-88;  problems  in. 


INDEX 


847 


89-101;  metrical  accent  in  relation 
to,  16i-69. 

Energy,  note  on  vocal,  324-25. 

Enoch  Arden,  68. 

Enunciation,  distinctness  depends 
on  clear,  285;  287;  indistinctness 
due  to  careless,  305-00;  exercises 
in,  309-11;  general  exercises  in, 
310-11;  note  on,  329. 

Essay  on  Biography,  91. 

Eternal  Goodness,  The,  127. 

Eulogy  on  Lafayette,  134-35. 

Evangeline,  89;  272-73. 

Everett,  Edward,  Eulogy  on  Lafay- 
ette, 134-35. 

Exercises,  purpose  and  use  of,  10-11. 

Experience,  reader  must  understand 
author's,  105. 

Expression,  mental  and  emotional 
causes  of  faulty,  10;  individuality 
in,  108-09. 

Falcon,  The,  92. 

Feeling,  qualities  of  voice  in  strong 
and  elevated,  208-09;  in  somber, 
209-10;  in  genial,  210-11. 

Festus,  31. 

Finis,  91. 

Fitzgerald,  Edward,  Rubdiydt  of 
Omar  Khayyam,  89. 

Flower  in  the  crannied  wall,  182. 

FooVs  Prayer,  The,  46-48. 

Force,  vocal,  as  a  means  of  emphasis, 
85;  depends  on  speaker's  emotion- 
al attitude,  106;  and  attention  of 
the  audience,  106. 

From  a  College  Window,  240. 

Funeral  Oration  on  Garfield,  236. 

Future  of  the  South,  The,  63. 

Gareth  and  Lynette,  38-39. 

Genesis,  133. 

Gift  of  the  Magi,  The,  96-101. 

Gilfillan,  George,  Bards  of  the  Bible, 
216-17. 

Gladness  of  Nature,  The,  128. 

Goethe,  Johann  Wolfgang  von,  quo- 
tations from,  15;  89. 

Grady,  Henry  W.,  The  New  South, 
65;  162. 

Gray,  Thomas,  Elegy  in  a  Country 
Churchyard,  90;  187. 


Grouping,  the  basis  of,  30;  and 
pause,  30;  and  change  of  pitch, 
31-32;  and  interrupted  utterance, 
32-33;  causes  of  faulty,  33-34; 
and  breathing,  33-34;  and  punc- 
tuation of,  34-35;  examples  ol 
faulty,  35-36;  emphasis  of  details 
in,  36-37;  problems  in,  37-50; 
note  on,  321. 

Hale,  Edward  Everett,  The  Man 
Without  a  Country,  73-82. 

Hamlet,  35;  62;  90;  151-52;  311. 

Harte,  Bret,  Frontier  Stories,  18; 
Dickens  in  Camp,  36;  297. 

Henry,  O.,  The  Gift  of  the  Magi,  96- 
101. 

Holmes,  Oliver  Wendell,  The  Aido~ 
crat  of  the  Breakfast-Table,  62; 
95-96;  207-08;  283-84;  The  One- 
Hoss  Shay,  180-81. 

Hood,  Thomas,  The  Bridge  of  Sighs, 
241-42. 

House  and  the  Road,  The,  91. 

Hovey,  Richard,  At  the  End  of  the 
Day,  159-60;  The  Taliesin,  297. 

Hoio  They  Brought  the  Good  News 
from  Ghent  to  Aix,  131. 

Howitt,  William,  The  Wind  in  a 
Frolic,  148-49. 

Hunt,  Leigh,  Abou  Ben  Adhem,  41- 
42. 

Hunting  Song,  36. 

Huxley,  Thomas,  A  Liberal  Educa- 
tion, 45-46;  On  a  Piece  of  Chalk, 
146-47. 

Hymn  (Addison),  138-39. 

Hymn  on  the  Morning  of  Christ's  Na- 
tivity, 39. 

Hymn  to  Mont  Blanc,  209;  254-55. 

Imitation,  effective  speech  not  ac 

quired  by,  8;  9;  power  not  gaineiJ- 

by,  110. 
Impressiveness,  and  amotion,  105- 

123. 
In  Memoriam,  35;  224;  240-41. 
In  the  Wilderness,  37. 
Incomplete  thought,  how  shown,  52; 

56;  types  of,  56-57. 
Inferno,  The,  36. 
Inflection,    definition    of,    52;    and 


548 


INDEX 


clianpp  of  pitch,  52-54;  as  a  means 

of  oiupha.sis,  5;J;  in  luusical  verse, 

!d4!d-4.{;  effect  of  emotion  on,  •i'M; 

2-1-1-48. 
Inporsoll,  Robert  G.,  Address  at  Ilis 

Jirolhcr's  Funeral,  188;  A   Vision 

of  War.  in. 
intensity,  principles  of,  in  speech, 

U-)-i9. 
Interest,  depends  on  knowledge,  7. 
Intonation,  a  fault  in  melody,  249- 

50. 
Irving,  Washington,    The  Legend  of 

Sleepy    Hollow,    23-29;     116-23; 

Stralford-on-Avon,  30. 

Jackson,    Helen    Hunt,    Spinning, 

144-i5. 
James,  William,   Tcdks  to  Teachers, 

66-67. 
Jerome,  Jerome  K.,  Three  Men  in  a 

Boat,  190-92;  262-63. 
Johnson,  Samuel,  sentence  from,  89. 
Jolly  Old  Pedagogue,  The,  225-26. 
Jonson,  Ben,  Catiline,  9-i. 
Jordan,  David  Starr,  The  Call  of  the 

Twentieth  Century,  214;  Men  Told 

Me,  Lord,  271-72. 
Julius  Co'sar,  il;    63-64;    69;    90; 

182;  238. 
Jumhlies,  The,  195-96. 

Keats,  John,  On  first   looking  into 

Chapman's  Homer,  45. 
Key,  defined,  237;  effect  of  thought 

and  emotion  on,  238-41 ;  effect  of 

temperament  and  constitution  on, 

237;  influence  of  size  of  room  on, 

238. 
King  Henry  the  Eighth,  20;  72;  139- 

41. 
King  Henry  the  Fifth,  38;  72-73;  239. 
King  Henry  the  Fourth,  61;  72;  257- 

59. 
King  Richard  the  Second,  39;  69;  70; 

220-21. 
King  Richard  the  Third,  150-51. 
King  Robert  of  Sicily,  84. 
Kipling,  Rudyard,  Recessional,  188- 

89. 
Knowles,  James  Sheridan,  William 

Tell,  257. 


Lady  of  the  Lake,  The,  164. 

Lalla  Rookh,  39. 

Lamb,  Charles,  Dissertation  on 
Roast  Pig,  68. 

Landor,  Walter  Savage,  Finis,  91. 

Lanier,  Sidney,  The  Marshes  of 
Glynn,  267-69. 

Lantern-Bearers,  The,  48-50. 

Last  Fight  of  the  Revenge,   The,  243. 

Laus  Deo,  136-37. 

Leadership  of  Educated  Men,  The, 
176-77. 

Lear,  Edward,  The  Jumhlies.  195-96. 

Left  Out  on  Lone  Star  Mountain,  18. 

Legend  Beautiful,  The,  275-78. 

Legend  of  Sleepy  Hollow,  The,  23- 
29;  116-23. 

Liberal  Education,  A,  45-46. 

Life  (Sill),  246-48. 

Life,  Webster's  definition  of,  253. 

Life  of  Samuel  Johnson,  38. 

Lincoln,  Abraham,  Second  Inaugural 
Address,  56;  reference  to  his  Ad- 
dress at  Gettysburg,  106. 

lAncoln  as  a  Lawyer  and  Orator,  67. 

Lines,  length  of,  should  be  observed 
in  poetry,  169-70;  "run  on,"   169. 

Literary  History  of  America,  A,  lines 
from  introduction  to,  253. 

Literature,  of  power  and  of  knowl- 
edge, 4;  power  of,  realized  through 
oral  reading,  4;  defined,  105;  sym- 
pathetic rendering  of,  improves 
voice,  205;  213. 

Long,  John  D.,  Memorial  Day  Ad- 
dress, 40. 

Longfellow,  Henry  Wadsworth,  Paul 
Revere' s  Ride,  36;  King  Robert  of 
Sicily,  84;  Evangeline,  89;  272-73; 
The  Building  of  the  Ship,  179-80; 
Daybreak,  196;  The  Rainy  Day, 
206 ;  A  Psalm  of  Life,  245 ;  The  Leg- 
end Beautiful,  275-78. 

Lost  Cause,  The,  190. 

Lost  Days,  219. 

Lotos-Eaters,  The,  266-67. 

Loudness,  not  evidence  of  power, 
125-26. 

Lowell,  James  Russell,  The  Street, 
153;  Stanzas  on  Freedom,  183. 

Lubbock,  Sir  John,  The  Pleasures  of 
Life.  91. 


INDEX 


349 


Macbeik,  66;  91;  137-38;  149-50; 
21i-13;  228-30;  245. 

Man  Without  a  Country,  The,  73-82. 

Manfred,  184-85. 

Mankind,  179. 

Manner,  incidental  to  matter,  8. 

Marmion,  loo-oQ;  175. 

Marmontel,  Jean  F.,  quoted,  105. 

Marshes  of  Glynn,  The,  267-69. 

Melody,  in  relation  to  meaning,  51; 
influence  of  emotion  on  vocal,  236- 
37;  faults  in,  248-49. 

Memorial  Day  Address,  40. 

Men  Told  Me,  Lord,  271-72. 

Merchant  of  Venice,  The,  85;  185- 
86;  205-06;  211-12;  261-62. 

Metre,  logical  emphasis  in  relation 
to,  164-69;  effect  of,  on  pronunci- 
ation, 166-67;  assistance  of,  n 
rendering  meaning,  167-69;  and 
rhythm,  173. 

Midsummer  Night's  Dream,  A,  131. 

Miller,  Joaquin,  Mankind,  179; 
Columbus,  217-18. 

Milton,  John,  Hymn  on  the  Morning 
of  Christ's  Nativity,  39;  Paradise 
Lost,  62;  69;  90. 

Monotony,  how  to  overcome  fault 
of,  61. 

Moore,  Thomas,  Lalla  Rookh,  39. 

Morley,  John,  On  the  Study  of  Liter- 
ature, 37. 

Mountains  of  California,  The.,  44- 
45. 

Muir,  John,  The  Mountains  of  Cali- 
fornia, 44-45;  Our  National  Parks, 
142-44. 

Music,  elements  of,  in  poetry,  237. 

Mystery  of  Life,  The,  214. 

Nature,  42. 

New  South,  The,  65;  162. 

Newman,   John    Henry,     Downfall 

and  Refuge  of  Ancient  Civilization, 

65. 
Night  (sonnet),  263-64. 

Ode  (O'Shaughnessy),  261. 
Ode  on  the  Death  of  the  Duke  of  Wel- 
lington, 130. 
Ode  on  the  Intimations  of  Immortality, 
173. 


Oliver  Twist,  226-28. 

On  a  Piece  of  Chalk,  146-47. 

On  Affairs  in  America,  64;  91. 

On  first  looking  into  Chapman's 
Homer,  45. 

On  the  Eve  of  Bunker  Hill,  189-90. 

On  the  Study  of  Literature,  37. 

One-Hoss  Shay,  The,  180-81. 

Opportunity,  135. 

Oral  composition,  value  and  limita- 
tions of,  1-3. 

Oral  reading,  place  of,  in  education, 
1;  value  of  training  in,  4-5;  prob- 
lems involved  in,  6-8;  principles 
of,  derived  from  conversation,  9- 
10;  what  it  involves,  15;  meaning 
perverted  by  thoughtless,  15;  at 
sight,  16-17;  purpose  of,  16; 
"sing-song,"  16;  compared  with 
conversation,  22;  rate  of  utterance 
in,  130. 

Orations,  declamatory  style  in  de- 
livery of,  114. 

O'Shaughnessy,  Ode,  261. 

Our  National  Parks,  142-44. 

Ozymandias,  183. 

Paradise  Lost,  62;  69;  90. 

Passing  of  Arthur,  The,  154-55. 

Paul  Revere' s  Ride,  36. 

Pause,  for  preparation,  16-17;  and 
word  groups,  30;  length  of,  30-31; 
as  a  means  of  emphasis,  84. 

Peabody,  Francis  Greenwood,  The 
Rhythm  of  Life,  131. 

Peabody,  Josephine  Preston,  The 
House  and  the  Road,  91. 

Peter,  84. 

Peveril  of  the  Peak,  70. 

Phrases,  relation  of;  how  showTi,  55. 

Pickwick  Papers,  The,  40-41. 

Pied  Piper  of  Hamelin,  The,  196- 
202. 

Pilgrim's  Progress,  The,  177-79. 

Pippa  Passes,  193-94. 

Pitch  intervals,  effect  of  emotion  on, 
236;  influence  of  thought  and  feel- 
ing on,  241-44;  in  musical  verse, 
242-43. 

Pitch  variation,  cause  of,  51;  prob- 
lems in,  61-82;  note  on,  321-22. 

Pleasures  of  Life,  The,  91. 


S50 


INDEX 


Poe.  Edjjar  Allan,  Silence  —  a  Fable, 

Poetry,  as  n  source  of  i>o\ver,  113- 
14;  Wonlswortii's  definition  of, 
113;  voice  training'  in,  lH-15; 
relation  of,  to  eloquence,  113-li; 
rhythm  in  reading,  104;  elements 
of  music  in,  i'.il. 

Pollard,  Kdward  Albert,  The  Lost 
Cause,  11)0. 

Porter,  Horace,  The  Soldier's  Creed, 
214-15. 

Preparation,  meaning  of,  317. 

Pretense,  emotional,  107. 

Princess,  The  (song  from),  244. 

Principles,  knowledge  of,  essential  in 
study  of  expression,  10-11 ;  318-19. 

Prisoner  of  Chilian.  The,  187. 

Problems,  notes  on,  317. 

Pronunciation,  importance  of  cor- 
rect, 287;  standard  of,  309-10; 
suggestions  for  improving,  309- 
10;  general  exercises  in,  310-11; 
note  on,  329. 

Prose,  rhythm  of,  depends  on  under- 
standing of  speaker,  162-63. 

Proverbs,  62. 

Psalm  xxiv,  141. 

Psalm  of  Life,  A,  245. 

Public  speaking,  value  and  limita- 
tions of,  in  class  work,  2-3. 

Punctuation,  and  grouping,  34-35; 
in  relation  to  inflection,  55. 

Quality,  definition  of  vocal,  203;  what 
determines  vocal,  203;  control  of 
vocal,  204-05;  of  voice  improved 
by  rendering  literature,  205;  kinds 
of  vocal,  206-07;  relation  of  usual 
tone  to  "orotund,"  208;  abnor- 
mal, 211-12;  faults  in  vocal.  213; 
problems  in  vocal,  214-35;  note 
on  vocal.  326-27. 

Queen  of  the  Air,  The,  177. 

Rahhi  Ben  Ezra,  180. 

RainhoiP,  The,  183. 

Rainy  Day,  The,  206. 

Raising  the  Flag  over  Fort  Sumter, 

70. 
Raleigh,  Walter,   The  Last  Fight  of 

the  Revenge,  243. 


Raleigh,  ^YnHer.  Style,  69-70. 

Ivango,  exercises  for  increasing,  300. 

]{,ale.    Sic  'rime. 

Read,  Thomas  Buchanan,  Drifting, 
269-71;    The  Rising,  302-04. 

Reading.    See  Oral  Reading. 

Recessional,  188-89. 

Recitations,  program  of,  330-42. 

Rcligio  Medici,  The,  260. 

Reply  to  Ilayne,  126-27. 

Repression,  sometimes  desirable, 
107. 

Resonance,  quality  of  voice  deter- 
mined by,  203-04;  in  "orotund" 
tone,  208;  what  determines,  297- 
98;  exercises  for  securing.  298- 
99. 

Rhythm,  in  speech.  161;  function  of, 
161;  in  prose,  162-63;  conforms 
to  sense  emphasis  in  pro.se.  16.'>; 
of  poetry.  163;  to  be  observed  in 
reading  poetry,  164;  in  relation  to 
time.  172;  in  relation  to  metre, 
173;  problems  in,  175-202;  note 
on,  325-20. 

Rhythm  of  Life,  The,  130-31. 

Riley.  James  Whitcomb.  Dialect  in 
Literature,  40;  The  South  Wind  and 
the  Sun,  174. 

Rising,  The,  302-04. 

Rivals,  The,  230-35. 

Rossetti,  Dante  Gabriel.  Lost  Days, 
219. 

Rousseau,  94-95. 

Ruhdiydt  of  Omar  Khayydm,  89. 

Rules,  ineffective  in  expression,  10. 

Ruskin,  John,  Work,  90;  The  Queen 
of  the  Air,  177;  The  Mystery  of 
Life,  214. 

Sartor  Resartus,  42-43. 

Saul,  210-11. 

Schurz,  Carl,  The  Venezuelan  Ques 

Hon,  71. 
Scollard,    Clinton,    On    the    Eve    oj 

Bunker  Hill,  189-90. 
Scott,    Walter,    Hunting    Sorig,    36; 

quotation  from,  37;  Peveril  of  the 

Peak,  70;  Marmion,  155-56;  175; 

The  Lady  of  the  Lake,  164;  Breathes 

there  the  man,  182. 
Seasons,  The,  184. 


INDEX 


351 


Selections,  aim  in  practice  of,  115;  use 
of,  for  "General  Reading,"  319. 

Shakespeare,  William,  Antojiy  and 
Cleopatra,  68;  As  You  Like  It, 
^;  224-25;  Hamlet,  35;  62;  90; 
151-52;  311;  Julius  Ccesar,  41; 
63-64;  69;  90;  182;  238;  King 
Henry  the  Eighth,  20;  72;  139- 
41;  King  Henry  the  Fifth,  38;  72- 
73;  239;  King  Henry  the  Fourth, 
61;  257-59;  King  Henry  the  Sixth, 
72;  King  Richard  the  Second, 
39;  69;  70;  220-21;  King  Richard 
the  Third,  150-51;  Macbeth,  66; 
91;  137-38;  149-50;  212-13;  228- 
30;  245;  The  Merchant  of  Venice, 
85;  185-86;  205-06;  211-12;  261- 
62;  A  Midsummer  Night's  Dream, 
31;  131;  Sonnet  (64),  38;  The 
Taming  of  the  Shrew,  156-57;  The 
Tempest,  39;  Twelfth  Night,  90; 
The  Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona,  62. 

Shelley,  Percy  Bysshe,  Ozymandias, 
183. 

Sheridan,  Richard  Brinsley,  sentence 
from,  61;  Speech  at  the  Trial  of 
Warren  Hastings,  152-53;  The 
Rivals,  230-35. 

Sight  Reading,  preparation  for,  16- 
17;  and  simple  forms  of  literature, 
18. 

Silas  Marner,  15;  35. 

Silence  —  a  Fable,  219-20. 

Sill,  Edward  Rowland,  The  Fool's 
Prayer,  46-48;  Opportunity,  135; 
Life,  246-48. 

"Sing-song,"  evidence  of  thought- 
lessness, 21;  how  to  correct,  248- 
49. 

Soldier's  Creed,  The,  214-15. 

Sonnet  (Shakespeare),  38. 

Sonnet  composed  upon  Westminster 
Bridge,  141-42. 

Speaking,  extemporaneous  and  im- 
promptu, 315-17. 

Speech,  mechanical  aspects  of,  8; 
nature  of  man  determines  laws  of, 
9;  monotonous  and  hesitant,  17; 
music  of,  236;  problems  in  music 
of,  252-78;  training  physical 
agents  of,  281-83;  mastering  me- 
chanical processes  of,  281 ;  acquired 


by  imitation,  282;  overcoming  bad 
habits  of,  283;  attention  and  dis- 
tinct, 286;  distinctness  of,  ac- 
quired by  practice,  287;  reveals 
character,  288;  good,  tends  ta 
perpetuate  itself,  288;  elements  of, 
305;  notes  on  impressive,  32;i-24; 
note  on  music  of,  327;  note  on 
technical  principles  of,  328. 

Speech  at  the  Trial  of  Warren  Hast- 
ings, 152-53. 

Speech  on  American  Affairs,  64;  91. 

Spencer,  Herbert,  quoted,  286. 

Spinning,  144-45. 

Stanzas  on  Freedom,  183. 

Stephens,  Alexander  H.,  The  Future 
of  the  South,  63. 

Stevenson,  Robert  Louis,  Mark- 
heim,  34;  The  Lantern  Bearers,  48- 
50;  The  Truth  of  Intercourse,  91- 
92;  quoted,  105. 

Straff ord-on-Avon,  30. 

Street,  The  (sonnet),  153. 

Stress,  explained,  131;  kinds  of,  132- 
34. 

Study,  necessary  for  reading,  18. 

Style,  reveals  character  of  the  indi-  ' 
vidual,  7-8;  incidental  to  thought, 
8. 

Sttjle,  69-70. 

Subordination,  57-58. 

Sicallou-s,  The,  194. 

Sweet,  Henry,  quoted,  32. 

Sweetness  and  Light,  189. 

Switzerland  (Baedeker),  252;  254.  _ 

Syllables,  suppressed,  in  reading 
verse,  170-71. 

Talk  on  Books,  A,  63. 

Talks  to  Teachers,  66-67. 

Taming  of  the  Shrew,  The,  156-57. 

Tempest,  The,  39. 

Tennyson,  Alfred,  Garelh  and  Lyn- 
ette,  39;  Enoch  Arden,  C8;  Becket, 
71;  The  Falcon,  92;  Ode  on  the 
Death  of  Wellington,  130;  song 
from  The  Coming  of  Arthur,  151; 
The  Passing  of  Arthur,  154-55; 
310-11;  The  Charge  of  the  Heavy 
Brigade,  165;  Flower  in  the  cran- 
nied wall,  182;  Ulysses,  215-16:  In 
Memoriam,  35;  224;  240-41;   The 


S52 


INDEX 


Ballad  of  (he  Rrrcnge,  243;  song 
from  The  Princixn,  5i44;  Crossiiuj 
the    liar.   )^jl;    The    Lotos-Eaters, 

Thaiiatopsis,  88. 

Thiiikiaj;,  iluring  speech,  21. 

Tlioiusou,  James,  The  ISeasons,  18  i. 

Thoreavi.  lleury  David,  Walden,  Go; 
17a-7(). 

rhought,  relation  of  emotion  to, 
G-7;  clearness  of,  in  speech,  17. 

Three  Men  in  a  Boat,  190-92;  262-63. 

Throat,  misuse  of,  in  producing 
tone,  290;  e.xercises  for  ease  of, 
294-95. 

Time,  necessary  for  preparation,  18; 
a  means  of  measuring  thought 
value,  84;  significance  of,  129-31; 
rhythm  in  relation  to,  172-75; 
relation  of  metre  to,  172-73;  de- 
pends on  speaker,  172;  evidence 
of  speaker's  understanding,  173; 
slow,  173;  medium,  174;  fast, 
174-75;  use  of,  in  class,  319. 

Tone,  intensity  of,  125;  making, 
283-84;  how  to  gain  ease  in  pro- 
ducing, 290;  misuse  of  throat  in 
producing,  290 ;  clearness  of,  in  rela- 
tion to  breathing,  295-96 ;  exercises 
for  clearness  of,  296-97 ;  what  deter- 
mines resonance  of,  297-98;  exer- 
cises for  resonance  of,  298-99. 

Truth  of  Intercourse,  The,  91-92. 

Twelfth  Night,  90. 

Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona,  The,  62. 

Ulysses.  215-ia 

Uncommercial  Traveller,  The,  93. 

Understanding,  enjoyment  and  in- 
terest depend  on,  7. 

Up  from  Slavery,  67-68;  136. 

Uses  of  Education  for  Bunness,  72. 

Utterance,  grouping  and  interrupted, 
32-33;  "effusive,"  "expulsive," 
and  "explosive"  (footnote),  32. 

Venezuelan  Question,  The,  71. 

Vision  of  War,  A,  242. 

Vocal  energy,  modulations  of,  124- 
34;  cause  of  uniform,  124;  control 
of  all  degrees  of,  128-29;  duration 
of,  129-31;  problems  in,  134-60. 


Voice,  demands  made  by  literature 
on,  5;  use  of,  ac(|uired  by  clFijrl,  S; 
thought  and  feeling  delcrmiue 
modulations  of,  10;  variations  of, 
unpremeditated  in  conversation, 
22;  poetry  as  a  means  of  training, 
113-15;  resonance  of,  203-04;  ef- 
fect of  emotion  on,  204;  projection 
of,  238;  value  of  training,  not  recog- 
nized, 282;  variety  of  good,  283; 
reason  for  neglect  of,  284;  im- 
proved by  training,  285;  character 
of  good,  289;  range  and  flexibility 
of,  299-300;  exercises  for  increas- 
ing range  of,  300-01;  general  ex- 
ercise for  training,  302-04;  note 
on  training,  328-29. 

Voices,  288. 

Vowels,  prolongation  of,  a  means 
of  emphasis,  86;  how  formed,  305; 
essentials  of  correct  utterance  of, 
305;  exercises  in  enunciation  of, 
306-08. 

Walden.  65;  175-76. 

Warner,    Charles    Dudley,    In    the 

Wilderness,  37. 
Washington,  45. 
Washington,  Booker   T.,   Up  from 

Slavery,  67-68;  136. 
Webster,   Daniel,    The   Constitution 

and  the   Union,   65-66;   Reply  to 

Eayne,  126-27. 
Webster's   New  International   Die-* 

tionary,  definition  of  Life,  253. 
Wendell,    Barrett,    quoted,    106;    A 

Literary  History  of  America,  253. 
White,  Joseph  Blanco,  Night,  263- 

64. 
Whitman,    W'alt,   lines   from,    182; 

Voices,  288. 
Whittier,  -John  Greenleaf,  The  Eter- 
nal Goodness,  127;  Laus  Deo.  136- 

37;  Conduct,  184. 
William  Tell,  257. 
Wind  in  a  Frolic,  The.  148-49. 
Wolfe,   Charles,    The  Burial  of  Sir 

John  Moore,  180-87. 
Woodnotes,  66. 
Words,   meaning  of,  influenced  by 

utterance,    15-16;    misconception 

of,  in  reading,  21;  mechanical  rep- 


INDEX 


353 


ctition  of,  21 ;  value  of,  in  phrases, 
how  shown,  53;  accurate  utter- 
ance of,  comes  by  training,  285; 
distinct  utterance  of,  an  aid  to 
attention,  286. 


Wordsworth,  William,  Sonnet,  141- 
42;  Ode  on  the  Intimations  of 
Immortality,  173;  Tk*  Rainbow, 
183. 

Work,  90. 


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